Seen and Not Heard
by Maeve of Winter
Summary: After being coerced and manipulated by a longtime crush, Kevin is left struggling between his own happiness and the safety of his friends and family. Torn about who to trust, Kevin must decide if keeping his silence is worth the anguish, or if he should take the risk of bringing his secrets to light. Kevin whump, Kevin gang friendship, Kevin/Moose. WARNING FOR RAPE/NONCON.
1. Chapter 1

Deputy Wes Ashford moved to Riverdale and joined the force back when Kevin was starting the seventh grade. When his father introduced the two of them at the Lopez family's annual back-to-school barbecue, it was all Kevin could do to stammer out a hello.

"It's nice to meet you, Kevin," Wes said with a smile that suited his attractive young face. "Your dad talks about you so much that I feel like I know you already."

Tall, dark, and handsome with broad-shoulders and a square jaw, Wes looked like he could be on the cover of one of those romance novels Polly Cooper hoarded despite being explicitly forbidden from reading them by her mother. It was hard for Kevin to imagine that it would be anything close to nice for Wes to meet him, a graceless and overweight twelve-year-old riddled with acne.

"Hi," Kevin managed, taking the calloused hand offered to him. He could feel his face heating just by being in the man's presence.

He was relieved when another deputy came by to chat with Wes, sparing him from further conversation. Slipping away, he found himself a quiet spot to sit and shiver at the memory of Wes's rough hand, wondering what it would feel like to have it touching him all over his skin.

The next chance he had, he told his best friend Betty about the good-looking young deputy. They were sitting in the Cooper kitchen, ostensibly doing their homework, but really just taking the opportunity to talk privately as Mrs. Cooper went on a tirade against Mayor McCoy over the phone.

"He's the cutest guy I've ever seen," Kevin said lowly, his face flushing as he spoke. "Just, like, wow, you know?"

Betty giggled nervously. "Kevin, he's old!"

"He's not that old!" Kevin protested. "I bet he's still in his twenties. It's not like he's forty. And he's really, really good-looking."

"My mom says there's no worse way for a girl to get in trouble than by going out with an older guy," Betty said sagely. "So don't rush into anything just yet."

"Sheesh, Betty, it's not like I'm not going to marry him!" Kevin hissed. "I just think he's cute."

Though he thought his crush on Wes would fade, it didn't. Every time Kevin saw him, be it any day at the station or at a special event like a holiday party, his heart leapt, his face grew warm, and he could barely focus on what he was saying. By the time ninth grade ended, Kevin still couldn't get a grip on himself when around him, and resolved never to try speaking with Wes in fear of convincing him even further than he was a colossal freak.

Never would he have ever considered that Wes might notice _him._

It was early evening in the first week of June, and school had let out for the summer earlier that day. While it wasn't especially hot, Kevin had waited until evening to take his daily run. Now he had finished and was at the sheriff's station to drop off the dinner he'd cooked for his father, who was working late.

"Braised beef with mashed potatoes and glazed carrots," Kevin said proudly, presenting his father with the tupperware container.

His father chuckled and ruffled his hair fondly. "Thanks, kiddo. It was very thoughtful of you to bring this by."

After taking a few minutes to catch up and talk about how their days had gone, Kevin exchanged goodbyes with him. He was on his way out when he rounded the corner and quite literally bumped into Wes.

"Jesus God!" Wes exclaimed as Kevin crashed into him and then immediately stumbled back.

Instantly, Wes reached out a hand to steady him, grabbing him tightly by the upper arm.

"I'm so sorry," Kevin rushed to apologize, feeling his face flame. Typical. The best-looking deputy there was, and Kevin had to make a fool out of himself in front of him. "I should be more careful."

"It's all right," Wes said easily, still holding Kevin's arm. He looked him and up and down appraisingly and then gave his bicep a squeeze. "Wow. That's some nice muscle you've been building there."

"Th-thanks," Kevin stammered out, taken aback but excited at the compliment. Maybe his excitement was pathetic, but he couldn't so much as get a date, let alone a boyfriend. Knowing that someone, especially someone as handsome as Wes, was not only checking him out, but liking what he saw? He couldn't help but be thrilled.

"You know, I always forget how much you grew up this past year," Wes continued. "I still remember you as a chubby middle school kid."

Kevin laughed awkwardly, trying to cover his embarrassment. He'd worked hard to change his routine and made himself look better, putting in long hours at the gym and giving up any type of junk food. He hated to be reminded of how painfully unattractive he'd been back in the seventh and eighth grade.

"I guess it makes sense," he replied, trying to steer the conversation in a more tactful direction. "I mean, that's when we met, right? It's hard to believe that you've been in Riverdale for two years now."

"Hard to be believe because it's only been two years, but he's already vying for my job," Gloria Lopez, Chief Deputy, quipped as she walked up to join them, handing several pages of paper to Wes. "But I guess I'm safe as long as you forget your paperwork as often as you do." She gave Kevin a warm smile. "Hey, Kev. It's good to see you."

Wes extended his hand to take the papers, letting go of Kevin's arm for the first time, and Kevin would have been lying if he didn't feel a slight pang of sadness at the loss of contact. Having Wes compliment him and touch him, even if he was only being friendly and didn't really mean anything by it, sent a charge zipping through him. But he caught himself just in time to say goodbye to Gloria as she went on her way.

"So, what are you here for?" Wes asked as they continued to the exit. He elbowed Kevin playfully. "Did your old man haul you down here to chew you out?"

"Just bringing him some dinner," Kevin replied, doing his best to keep his voice casual. "He's working late, and I wanted to make sure he got a good meal."

He gave Wes a smile as they walked outside together, and his heart started beating about a million miles per minutes when Wes smiled at him in turn. Sunlight streamed down from the sky, intermingling with the evening shadows and playing against Wes's face, highlighting his handsome features and the hint of stubble on his jaw. Kevin had to resist the temptation to stare, carefully timing his glances to appear natural for normal conversation, but it was difficult. He really just wanted to drink in the sight of Wes, to bask in the attention he was getting from him.

"Tell you what," Wes drawled, putting an arm around Kevin's shoulders, much to Kevin's surprise and elation. "Since you're on your own for dinner tonight, why don't you come over to my place? We can make dinner together."

"You want me to come over?" Kevin asked in amazement. He could barely believe what was happening to him. His hopeless crush of years was finally paying attention to him—and even though Kevin knew it couldn't be actual attraction, it was still a nice change.

Wes shrugged. "Sure. I mean, as long as you don't have other plans."

Kevin shook his head, still overcome with disbelief. Actually, he'd been fighting the temptation to go to Pop's for a burger—since losing weight, he'd tried to give up fast food. "No. I actually was going to go home and take a shower. I mean . . ." he gestured to his sweaty T-shirt and jogging shorts for an explanation.

"No problem," Wes told him, leading him over to his car and opening the passenger door for him without missing a beat. "You can shower at my place."

The invitation caught Kevin off-guard, but he decided to play it cool. He didn't want to ruin the moment by flailing or being awkward with his refusal.

"Thanks," he said, sliding into the passenger seat. "I really appreciate it.

Wes grinned at him before shutting the door. "My pleasure."

* * *

True to his word, Wes ushered Kevin into his home, a dark blue saltbox-style house with a large and lush lawn, and then into his bedroom, a large room with furniture of gleaming dark oak.

"Anything of mine that you want is yours," he said with a smile, piling articles of clothing the wide bed. "Wear any of these clothes you like." He gave Kevin a playful nudge with his elbow. "With that new body of yours, I wouldn't mind you going around naked. But I think your dad might have it in for me if he ever found out."

Unsure how to react, Kevin let out a startled laugh at Wes's admission and then changed the subject. "Thanks for all of this."

"No problem." Wes pointed him in the direction of the master bath. "Go ahead and shower. I'll start working on dinner."

"I can help you," Kevin offered, but Wes waved him off.

"Don't worry about it. You're the guest, after all." He gave him a playful push toward the bath. "Just enjoy your shower."

The master bath was large and well-organized, all gleaming gold accents on sparkling white surfaces, and Kevin had no problems locating the necessary toiletries. Opening a bottle of body wash, he hesitated a moment before inhaling the scent, breathing in the woodsy aroma. His face heated, knowing that the pine scent was what Wes smelled like every day, clinging to his skin and hair. It felt so personal, almost like a violation, to hold that knowledge, and yet Kevin found himself taking the bottle into the shower with him.

As Kevin stepped into the large oval shower and let the hot water run down his body, soothing his sore muscles, he couldn't help but indulge in the notion, unrealistic as it was, of regularly being there in the house with Wes. Of visiting frequently, of being an expected but welcomed guest, of even _living_ there with Wes.

Closing his eyes as he was surrounded by the warmth of the water and steam, Kevin took a moment to let his favorite fantasy play out in his head. He would be showering, just like he was now, letting the water wash over his skin. But then the curtain would rustle, and then another man would step in and join him, pulling him roughly into his arms and giving him a fierce kiss.

Usually that other person was Moose Mason, Kevin's longtime crush from school. But today, when he thought about embracing the other man, kissing him for all he was worth, feeling the heat of his body against his own, all he could think of was Wes. Wes holding him, kissing his neck, ghosting his palm over Kevin's cock, gently but firmly pushing Kevin to his knees . . .

 _"You know what to do,"_ he would whisper gruffly into Kevin's ear, before putting his hands on his shoulders and pressing him down.

And Kevin would kneel before him, resting his hands on Wes's muscular thighs, the water cascading down over them both . . .

Kevin shivered at the idea. What he would give to have Wes—or anyone, really—look at him that way.

But at least, he thought as he finished with his shower and stood before the mirror to admire the physique he worked endlessly to achieve, he had a better chance of capturing someone's attention now than ever before.

After drying off, he dressed in the clothes Wes had laid out for him, again blushing at how personal it felt. Putting on Wes's jeans, his T-shirts, his boxers . . . it was strange and not something Kevin would have anticipated, but he didn't dislike it.

But Wes was just being nice, he told himself as he walked downstairs in search of the kitchen. Even still, he couldn't ignore the intimacy of it, of wandering through Wes's home as if he belonged there, wearing Wes's clothes, while Wes cooked for him. The parallels between what Wes was doing for him and what he would do for a boyfriend felt too strong, and Kevin couldn't stop his heart from leaping as he walked into the kitchen and found Wes stirring a pan at the stove.

"Smells good," Kevin complimented him, trying to act as normal as possible. Meanwhile, a rush of longing flooded through him at the sight. The scene was so domestic, so comforting, and Kevin desperately wanted to say that this was his house and his life, with Wes as his boyfriend.

"It's nothing fancy. Just a beef stir-fry." Wes cast him a smile, bringing his stomach to flutter.

Kevin felt himself flush at the compliment, and, feeling very bold, decided to issue Wes an invitation. "If you'd like me to teach you to cook, I'd happy to help. Come to my house anytime."

Wes chuckled. "That's very generous of you. But given that your dad probably wouldn't appreciate my choice of refreshment," Wes waved a hand at a bottle of Canadian Club and two full tumblers that sat on the tile counter. "I think we'd better keep the cooking lessons here."

Excitement pumped through Kevin at Wes's acceptance of his offer, overwhelming the surge of anxiety at the sight of the whiskey. His father had always been adamant about him being too young to drink anything other than a glass of wine at holiday dinners, but at the moment, Kevin was too thrilled with his good fortune to care much about legalities.

When Wes handed him one of the glasses, Kevin took it without hesitation, clinking his glass against Wes's in a toast.

"To terrific company," Kevin said as steadily as he could, his heart pounding with nervousness, desperately hoping Wes didn't think it was cheesy or lame.

"Hell, I'll drink to that," Wes declared, tossing back his four fingers' worth of whiskey in one go.

Impressed, Kevin tried to do the same but nearly spat it back out. He needed to take several swallows to force the liquor down, and when he finished, he was embarrassed to find Wes watching him in amusement.

But rather than teasing him, Wes just clapped him on the back. "You really are terrific company, Kevin." Movements smooth, he refilled both of their glasses and raised his again. "Another toast?"

One dinner and three more glasses of whiskey later, they'd retired to the leather couch in the living room, and Kevin was feeling much more confident and relaxed than earlier. Conversation flowed easily with Wes, and he found himself casting aside his worries and self-consciousness in favor of laughing with Wes and enjoying himself.

 _He could be the one,_ he thought dazedly as Wes poured him a fifth glass of whiskey and offered it to him. _He could be the guy I end up with._

Again, Kevin accepted, smiling at Wes over the rim of the glass before drinking it down, and when he set his glass back down on the coffee table, it took a moment for him to process that Wes was now resting his hand on his thigh. Even then, he second guessed himself, wondering if it was just his imagination fooling him into believing something he'd desperately desired was real.

"You know, I wasn't lying when I said you'd grown up," Wes told him. "I never would have thought you would end up looking this good." He massaged Kevin's leg as he spoke, and then Kevin knew that it was real.

Though he thought he should respond, Kevin didn't know what to say, unable to distinguish if the remark was intended as a compliment or an insult. There was a brief tingling sensation by his ear, and he realized Wes was stroking the side of his face down to his neck.

"You're so gorgeous," Wes murmured, his breath hot on Kevin's ear. "If I could chain you to the bed, I'd do it in a heartbeat."

 _He's too close._ Alarm bells were ringing vaguely in the back of Kevin's mind, and he still had enough reason to know that he should get away, but his thoughts were too sluggish to fully comprehend what exactly he needed to do. By the time he'd gathered himself enough to move, Wes had already moved one hand down to unzip Kevin's jeans, and Kevin froze again as Wes moved his hand inside Kevin's boxers to grasp his cock.

"I've been dreaming about being with you, you know," Wes continued, slowly dragging his fingers up and down Kevin's shaft. "All the things I could do to you."

Thoughts and instincts at war with one another, Kevin remained motionless where he sat on the couch, barely able to understand what was happening. Wes _wanted_ him. And Wes was touching him in a way he'd thought would only ever happen in his dreams. And damn if it didn't feel phenomenal.

By all accounts, Kevin should have been ecstatic.

And yet anxiety swirled within him, and he could feel an ache beginning at the back of his head as faint nausea churned in his stomach. He didn't want to be with Wes, he realized. He'd never expected to actually have this opportunity, and now that he did, it was overwhelming.

Barely aware of what he was doing, he went to push Wes away, only to end up abruptly standing instead, movements shaky and uncoordinated.

"What the hell?" Wes exclaimed, scowling as he instinctively pulled his hand back. "What are you—"

"We can't." The words tumbled out of Kevin's mouth, his tongue heavy and clumsy, struggling to get the words out. With trembling fingers, he zipped his jeans and buttoned them closed. "Wes, we can't." He couldn't reason why he was rejecting Wes after wanting him for so long—it was an effort just to speak, to convince his mouth to respond to his brain's commands—but he knew he had to. It wouldn't be right for him and Wes to be together, that much he knew, even if he couldn't remember why. No matter how much either of them wanted each other, it wouldn't be right..

Wes rolled his eyes. "Would you just relax and get back down here? We're fine. And if you're too stressed, well . . ." he moved to refill Kevin's whiskey glass. "Have another drink."

"No." Kevin shook his head emphatically and instantly regretted it; the motion made him dizzy and increased his nausea. The throbbing in his head and bile rising in his throat made it even more difficult to focus. "Wes, we're . . . I can't . . . my dad. He would find out." It seemed wrong, even moronic to push Wes away after wanting him so long, and part of Kevin was screaming that he was an idiot to do so. But he also couldn't shake the sense that letting Wes continue was a very bad idea.

Wes seemed annoyed at his sudden reluctance. "Your dad isn't here. Let's just pick up where we left off, okay?"

He tried to pull Kevin back down to the couch, but Kevin resisted, trying to back away as fast as he could on his wobbly legs.

"Wes, _stop._ " He hated that his voice was dangerously close to pleading, but he felt too weak and disoriented to keep going with Wes.

"Don't be a tease," Wes snarled at him, giving his arm a vicious yank, dragging Kevin back down to the couch.

Before Kevin knew it, Wes had shoved him on his back and climbed on top of him. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as Wes's full weight pressed down on him, rendering him immobile, but he managed to collect himself just enough to realize he still had a chance.

Being the (seemingly) lone gay kid in town had made Kevin a target, and as a result, he'd been in his fair share of fights. Back when he was in middle school, his father had taught him how to defend himself and also go on the offensive if need be.

"Now I don't want to hear anything about you starting up some sort of fight club at school," his father had warned him. "This is just for when you need to protect yourself, you hear?"

So when Wes brought his face close to Kevin's, leaning in for a kiss, Kevin smashed his forehead directly into his nose, and when Wes recoiled, swearing loudly, he rammed his knee into Wes's crotch several times, which forced him away.

"You little bitch!" Wes shouted, reaching out to swipe at him, but Kevin was already scrambling off the couch and running helter-skelter toward the front door.

The house seemed to expand and shift around him, realigning its walls and darkened halls to deliberately confuse him, and Kevin began to despair of ever getting out, especially when he heard Wes's footsteps thundering behind him. But just as he wondered if he would make it, his outstretched fingers made contact with the doorknob, and he threw the door open and sprinted headlong into the night.

The world passed around him in a blur of yellow light and shadows as he raced down the streets of the quiet suburb. Driven by the frantic urge to simply get away, Kevin didn't focus on where he was going, just running as fast as possible to leave Wes behind. He ran for a long time, his legs pumping until they burned with exhaustion, not stopping to catch his breath until he reached a small neighborhood park ensconced by thick clusters of trees. Before finally slowing to a halt, he slipped into the murky shroud created by tree branches, concealing himself there as he struggled to process all that had happened to him.

What _had_ happened? The night had been going so well, and then . . . then Kevin had destroyed it by spazzing out, per usual. Hell, he probably could've ended up having sex with Wes and seeing his fantasy about him come true.

Still, the image of Wes pouring him tumbler after tumbler of whiskey for him drifted into Kevin's mind, and his nausea swelled again.

He would have had sex with Wes even without the liquor. Yeah, he wouldn't have been graceful, and in all likelihood, he would have been wracked with nerves, but he would have easily agreed. Wes hadn't needed to try to force him into it, though he'd probably realized getting Kevin to go through with it would be no easy feat. His aggressiveness was because of Kevin's own behavior, he rationalized. Not because of Wes himself.

Kevin had brought everything on himself. Lusting after Wes for years and then turning around and cooling off on him—Wes had probably he was playing games.

 _Typical you,_ Kevin thought wearily to himself as he got to his feet and resumed his trek back to his home. _You wonder why you're single, and then when a guy is interested in you, you can't run away fast enough._

And yet as he continued forward, he was very aware that he was giving a dangerous amount of good faith to Wes and his intentions.

Leaving the park, he managed to garner enough of his surroundings to orient himself. This street along the far side of the park was familiar, somewhat busier than the quiet solitude of the suburbs, but not that busy at this time of night. Estimating he was about three miles from his house, Kevin squared his shoulders and set off toward home, trying to ignore the ache in his legs and the lightheaded sensation that was starting to overcome him. But even before he'd gone five hundred yards, his legs were shaking so violently he thought they might give out at any moment.

Just when he thought he would collapse, a car horn blared from behind him, and Kevin nearly jumped out of his skin as a forest green classic Dodge Dart Swinger pulled up to the curb. His heart pounded wildly even as he knew the car wasn't Wes's; he recognized it as belonging to someone else.

"Thought that was you," Moose Mason called good-naturedly, leaning out the driver's side window, his broad shoulders barely squeezing through. "Hey, get in, I'll give you a ride to wherever you're going."

Kevin only stood there speechlessly, not quite comprehending. After everything that had happened already, being recognized by someone, even a person he knew and liked, left him floundering, feeling as if all his defenses had been stripped away to render him exposed and vulnerable.

A frown creased Moose's forehead at Kevin's lack of response. "Hey. You all right?"

Nodding wordlessly, Kevin forced his legs to move, walking around to the passenger door, opening it, and clambering up into the car.

Moose looked at him searchingly for a few moments before pulling away from the curb, and while the more stubborn part of Kevin was tempted to hold his gaze and prove that he was all right, he was too ill and tired to do much beyond settle into his chair and fix his gaze on the dashboard. And after several seconds, Moose shrugged and steered the car back onto the street.

"I was just driving over to Reggie's place," he said after a few minutes of silence. "His parents are gone, so he's having a party. Gonna be epic."

"How nice," Kevin said woodenly, picking at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt. It wasn't until he tore the string off that he realized he was still wearing all of Wes's clothes. Fresh waves of frustration, embarrassment, and disgust rolled through him.

"You, uh, you can come with me," Moose invited him. "Only if you want, though. If you don't, I can take you someplace else."

At one point Kevin would have been delirious with happiness to go to a party with Moose, but now he was in no place for it. "Just my house is fine. You remember the address?"

"Three fifteen Great Northern Lane, right?" Moose asked. He gave Kevin a smile. "I remember from when we worked on our English project together."

Kevin looked down at his hands, as the cheerful memory replayed in his mind. It was when he had first felt drawn to Moose, impressed by his good spirit and genuine nature. But he didn't want to mar the happy times by associating with a night like tonight.

"Yeah, that's it," he forced himself to respond.

The ache in his head was increasing, leading Kevin to close his eyes and relax against the headrest in an attempt to relieve it. He didn't remember drifting off, but then Moose was shaking his shoulder gently.

"Hey, Keller, we're here," he said, keeping his voice soft.

Startling at the contact, Kevin jolted awake, instinctively throwing himself against the side of the door to escape the contact. Moose froze with his hand half-raised, alarm plain on his face.

"I'm sorry," he said, his expression confused and worried. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just wanted to let you know that we got to your house."

Kevin glanced out the window, realizing Moose was right. The house was still dark, though. His dad was probably still at work.

"Yeah, um, thanks," he replied, his face heating as he went to unbuckle his seatbelt. At this rate, he was going convince every guy in town that he was some major fucking freak.

"I can walk you to the door," Moose offered, but Kevin stopped him.

" No. " The word emerged sharper than he intended and Moose's eyebrows rose, but Kevin was too drained to care much. "Thanks for the ride. Was nice of you." He opened the car door to leave.

"Yeah, okay." Moose ran a hand through his hair and then blurted out, "Midge and I are on a break for the summer."

Kevin paused his exit and looked at him blankly, unsure of what to do with the information.

"I just wanted to let you know," Moose hastened to add. "Just in case, you know . . ." he shrugged. "If you'd ever like to go to dinner sometime."

 _Of all nights._ In the space of a single evening, the two guys he'd been crushing on both finally gave some sign of returning his feelings—but one admission had already gone spectacularly wrong.

It was too big of a risk to give another try.

"Good night, Moose," Kevin said, managing to prevent his voice from being unkind. "Thank you again."

He could barely walk in a straight line up the front walkway, but he was too conscious of Moose's gaze on his back to not at least try. Somehow, he staggered to the porch, fished the spare key out of its hiding place beneath the blue flower pot, and let himself into the house. The whole time, he was very aware that Moose was parked there, watching him, and he didn't drive away until Kevin made it through the front door.

Once inside, Kevin flicked on the lights and then collapsed into a chair at the kitchen table, his mind reeling. It was a comfort be home, back in the house where he'd grown up. Settling into his chair, he took several deep, steadying breaths, trying to remind himself that he was at a place that was familiar, where he was safe. Folding his arms, he rested his head on top of them as he would a pillow, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep.

But the shrill ring of the landline phone his father insisted on keeping disrupted any hope of rest. Kevin reluctantly hauled himself out of his chair and grabbed the receiver from its cradle without checking the number, leaning against the counter as he answered.

"Hello, you've reached the Keller residence, Kevin speaking," he recited, the greeting so standard that he even remembered it despite his overwhelming distress.

"Glad you made it home."

It was Wes's voice. Kevin's stomach dropped, and icy fear began coursing through his veins even as he told himself that he had nothing to be afraid of.

 _It was your own damn fault,_ he reminded himself forcefully. _You led him on and then turned around and rejected him._

The thought was not heartening in the slightest.

"Wes," he rasped, his voice nearly gone. "What do you want?"

There was a clink of glass from over the phone, and then Kevin heard Wes swallow; he was still drinking. But when he spoke, he sounded fairly sober.

"I just wanted to make sure you know to keep tonight's events between the two of us," Wes said casually. "Wouldn't want anything that happened to be misinterpreted, 'specially not by your father."

Kevin started shaking, and he grasped the phone tightly in an attempt to steady himself. Even if he blamed himself, he wasn't going to let someone else push him around. "I really don't think there's any 'misinterpreting' what you did, Wes."

"Oh, no?" Wes asked silkily. "You came to my house and showered there. You got drunk. Hell, I'd bet anything that at this very moment, you're still wearing the clothes I gave you."

The air all but left Kevin's lungs at the reminder, and he folded one arm around his chest protectively. He knew Wes was likely just guessing, but it made him feel like he was being watched, as if he wasn't safe in his own home.

"Now, I'm not planning on telling anyone about this," Wes continued. "But if you do, I'll give them my version. Which is that I kindly invited you to my house for dinner, but you abused my hospitality and took advantage of my generosity. You decided to take a shower and wear my clothes, leaving yours here—which I still have, by the way. Then you took a bottle of my whiskey from the fridge, got drunk, and then ran away like a coward when I confronted you."

Anger boiled up inside Kevin, and he was too tired to bother with self-control. "You're the only one who took advantage," he spat.

"Like I said," Wes replied coolly. "If you tell anyone, that's what I'll tell them. They'll listen to what I have to say, knowing I'm a trusted and respected member of the community. And they they'll compare it to what you say, knowing you're chronically single, gay, and desperate for attention. Do you think anyone won't believe you wanted me? Not to mention that you're the sheriff's kid, which has probably given you a whole bunch of authority issues. People will think it's the natural way of things for you to lash out like a spoiled brat when I told you I wasn't interested."

To Kevin's mortification, he could feel tears welling in his eyes, but he told himself they were from anger rather than despair. "You're one goddamn bastard, Wes," he seethed, injecting his voice with as much venom as he could.

Wes chuckled, and Kevin heard him take another drink. "You know, Kevin, I don't think you truly appreciate just how dangerous your father's job is, given how he's always taking all the calls that he does instead of leaving it to us deputies. Anything could happen to him when he's out on the job. Especially with those Serpents. They've always been violent, but they've been so much more aggressive these days."

Kevin wanted to swear at him again but ravaged by a whirlwind of anger, fear, and worry, couldn't form a sentence.

"When it comes to gangs, you never know when a confrontation will go wrong." Wes sighed. "It's always such a shame when it does. Good policemen die that way every day." His voice hardened. "It wouldn't take much for your dad to be one of them."

Kevin couldn't speak, paralyzed with dread as Wes's meaning dawned on him.

"Given how bloodthirsty the Serpents are, no one would be surprised if they killed a police officer. Not even the sheriff," Wes went on. "And you hang around with one of the Serpents, don't you? Your wannabe novelist friend? I'm guessing he wouldn't like spending the rest of his life in prison for killing a cop. Probably no more than your dad would like the inside of a coffin. So don't go running your mouth about what happened tonight."

He hung up the phone then, leaving the dial tone to ring in Kevin's ear.

Mechanically hitting the power button on the phone, Kevin let himself slide down to the floor, at the absolute end of his rope. Panic rose in his throat, forming a chokehold around his neck as the tears he'd tried to push back broke free and slid down his face. The lights pulsed above him and the night stretched endlessly before him.

He didn't know how long he sat there for, shoulders shaking as he tried to force back sobs, stomach twisting with nausea and something that he couldn't quite name but was somewhere close to grief. After a while, the phone, still clutched in his hand, rang once more.

This time Kevin checked the caller ID and saw that it was his grandparents calling from their home in Montana. Though tempted to leave it to the answering machine, he stifled a sigh and tried to compose himself. Once he thought he could keep his voice level and breathing even, he answered.

"Hello, you've got Kevin," he said, forcing cheer into his voice. _You can get through this,_ he told himself. _Get used to faking. You're going to have to do it a lot if you want Dad and Jughead to be okay._

"Hello, dear," his grandmother replied brightly. "It's so good to hear your voice!"

"You, too." The response was automatic. So far this conversation wasn't very hard. Maybe he'd have an easier time lying to everyone than he'd thought.

"It know it's a little bit late where you are," his grandmother continued. "But your grandad and I just wanted to check on when you were coming out for a visit. Have you decided yet?"

Right. His grandparents wanted him to fly to Montana to spend a week or so at their ranch. He promised them he would, mentioning he was planning for either July or August. He hadn't been looking forward to the visit, reasoning that since his grandparents lived in the middle of nowhere, it would be boring as hell.

That wasn't important now. What was important was that Montana wasn't Riverdale.

He had a temporary escape.

Kevin gripped the phone tightly. "Actually, Nana, I've been really looking forward to visiting you," he lied. "What would you say about me staying not just for a week, but for the whole summer?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

If you ever want to chat, I'm also Maeve-of-Winter on Tumblr. I love discussion and hearing people's thoughts on my writing, so feel free to submit ideas or just talk Riverdale.

Also, let me know if you spotted the Twin Peaks reference.


	2. Chapter 2

With a weary sigh, Kevin plunked down onto a bench right outside the airport bar and grill, where he and his father had agreed to meet. His entire frame felt stiff from waking up at four in the morning to make his seven AM return flight, and he hadn't been able to fall asleep on the plane, too tense and worried to rest. Right now he was really feeling the physical affects of his weariness, his shoulders sore and his torso stiff, and neither were helped by his mind running in overdrive due to its now-perpetual state of gradually rising panic.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kevin pinched the bridge of his nose and concentrated on his breathing, inhaling slowly and then exhaling again. He desperately didn't want to be going back to Riverdale, but now that August was at a close, bringing summer to an end, he didn't have a choice. Besides, it was his duty to protect his father and Jughead. He couldn't run away from that.

Not any more than he already had, anyway.

The instant Jughead flashed into his mind, Kevin's phone buzzed with a text from him, as if the very thought had been a catalyst. His pulse spiking and dread curling in his stomach at the prospect of bad news, Kevin steeled himself before glancing down at the screen.

 _Meet us for a reunion dinner at Pop's at 7. Me, Archie, and Betty will all be there._

"Heh." Kevin couldn't help but laugh at himself for thinking the message might be bad news, but it quickly turned to a sigh as he reminded himself that the next one very well could be.

It was exhausting to live this way, to always worry that something terrible could happen to the people he was close at any given moment, knowing he would be the cause if it did.

But this was his life now, and if he wanted his dad and Jughead to be okay, he had to adjust.

Running his hand through his hair, now worn loose and free of product, Kevin tried to distract himself by scrolling through his Instagram and catching up on what his friends were doing. Archie had plenty of selfies showing up his hot new body from working construction, Ginger had numerous photos from the cheerleading camp Cheryl had commanded the River Vixens to attend, and Jughead just had a bunch of quotes from books and movies that he liked—Kevin snorted out loud as he recognized a Tarantino one.

He took the time to check what was being said about his own pictures. The last few ones he'd posted had been him decked out in his ranch gear, complete with a white stetson, working with the horses. A couple had even been him out riding at sunset, like a full Western cliché, and he completely expected to get ribbing from the guys about it.

But his surprise, the comments were wholly enthusiastic.

 _Very Norman Rockwell,_ Jughead had observed. _Looks nice._ And coming from Jughead, it was practically a marriage proposal.

 _Like the hat,_ Archie had told him. _You should bring that horse back to Riverdale. It can be friends with Vegas and Hot Dog!_

 _Love how you're wearing your hair now_ , Betty had commented on a picture where his hair had been entirely free of product. _Swoon!_

Once he'd arrived at the ranch, he'd run out of gel and then never replaced in, instead just starting to wear it loose. And after seeing Midge and Ginger voicing agreement with Betty's remark, Kevin decided then and there to forgo hair gel entirely for the foreseeable future.

 _Damn, Keller, keep up that cowboy swagger and you're gonna get all the pussy!_ Reggie had enthused, and then added, _Or get all the dick, you know, since that's your thing._

Finally, there was a comment from Moose that sent Kevin's heart racing with both anxiety and anticipation: _As good as you look as a cowboy, Kevin, I can't wait for you to come back home._

Home. Moose thought of Riverdale as home, and that was where he wanted Kevin. And Kevin liked that idea.

So, there were good things about returning to Riverdale, Kevin tried to convince himself. His friends. A potential boyfriend (his stomach flip-flopped at the thought, and he couldn't tell if is was due to simple nervousness or dread). And of course—

"Hey, kiddo," a familiar voice called to him cheerfully, breaking him out of his thoughts. "Good to see you!"

Kevin looked up, smiling. "Dad!"

Relief bloomed in his chest as his father strode toward him. Sheriff Tom Keller was dressed in casual clothes, jeans and a T-shirt, rather than his uniform, and he looked both happy and well The sunlight streamed in through the massive airport windows, playing on his salt-and-pepper hair and highlighting the grin on his face.

He was fine, Kevin reminded himself, studying his father as he moved toward him, searching for any hint of injury. He was fine. Wes hadn't gone back on his word and hurt him.

Tom wasted no time sweeping him into a tight hug that Kevin returned without hesitation. After weeks of worrying about his father, wondering if anything was happening to him, knowing he couldn't do anything if there was, it was comforting to hold him close. He could feel the firm muscles of his father's body and inhale the woodsy scent of his cologne. Wrapped in his father's arms, he felt safe and secure, any worries about Wes far away.

But eventually they had to let go, and when Tom did, he stepped back to put his hands on Kevin's shoulders, taking a good look at him. Kevin didn't miss the frown that formed on his face at what he saw.

"Good Lord, Kev," he said, disbelief in his voice and concern flashing in his eyes. "You're so _thin._ Didn't my parents remember to feed you?"

Trying to be casual even as the weight of the truth pressed down on him, Kevin shrugged shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Ranch work is hard work, I guess. And no trips to Pop's for milkshakes, so I guess I lost a couple of pounds."

In actuality, his anxieties over returning to Riverdale had largely suppressed his appetite and also prevented him from getting much sleep. A stab of self-consciousness pierced through Kevin as he realized how easily his father was able to notice the changes in his appearance. He must look incredibly haggard.

"Hmm." Tom's tone was skeptical, and worry was clear on his face, but he made a visible effort to make the mood light again. "I guess it must be because you've gotten taller, too. My God, you must have grown six inches, I swear." He put his hand on top of his head, and then moved it toward Kevin, measuring their heights. "Would you believe it? You're taller than me now." He shook his head and then clapped Kevin on the shoulder before hefting one of his bags. "C'mon, let's get to the car. You can tell me everything that you did this summer."

The drive back to Riverdale took about two hours, but to Kevin, it was all too short. The closer they got, the more his panic rose, but he tried his best not to let on, instead telling his father light-hearted fiction about his time in Montana instead of anything close to the truth.

* * *

Summer at his grandparents' cattle ranch proved to be just as dull as Kevin had predicted, only livened by the paranoia and self-doubt that plagued him as he wondered if wondering if he had made the right decision by staying an entire two and a half months. During his two flights and layover to get there, he didn't sleep at all, stomach churning with anxiety, agonizing over his choice as Wes's cold and disdainful words—ran away like a coward—echoing in his head.

Kevin hadn't thought he would have been able to cope with staying in Riverdale throughout the summer, knowing that Wes was living in the same town and could appear at any given moment. But once that he was in Montana, he felt helpless and panicked, realizing that he would be totally unable to help Jughead or his father if Wes decided to go after either of them. Fight or flight had taken hold of him, and Kevin had turned and run.

Wes had been correct: Kevin was a coward. If either Jughead or his father came to harm, their blood would be on Kevin's hands.

He needed to have some modicum of control, so he decided to try to keep tabs on the events in Riverdale as best he could from over two thousand miles away. He needed to have all lines of communication open, and In the current day and age, that meant staying in contact over text and through social media. Given his location, Kevin didn't exactly have any exciting events to share, but he at least could take photos of the landscape, horses, and, occasionally, himself to post to Instagram and Facebook. He tried to keep to a regular schedule, as, he reasoned, the more frequently he posted, the more people would be reminded of his presence and would remember to update him if anything significant happened.

Kevin's grandparents were thoroughly unimpressed by his newfound penchant for phone photography, particularly when Kevin took a moment to snap a selfie with his horse (and caption it with No more horsin' around! when he posted it on Instagram) before going out riding with his grandfather.

"One of these days," his grandfather huffed, "you kids just might realize there's more life than smartphones!"

"Maybe," Kevin said noncommittally, not voicing the dominant thought in his head, which was that at the moment, his phone was one of his two primary lifelines.

The second was his laptop, a Christmas gift from his father last year that he put to good use once at the ranch. Once in Montana, Kevin found himself becoming desperate to maintain regular contact with Jughead in order to make sure Wes wasn't hurting him in any way, but flummoxed on how to do it. Jughead had a Twitter and Facebook, but rarely used either, and he was notorious among their group of friends for not responding to texts for days at a time.

Which led him to play to Jughead's strengths and interests to make sure he had an investment. Namely, he asked Jughead to show him his writing, carefully flattering him and appealing to his talents.

 _I know you're busy with your job at the drive-in,_ Kevin texted him. _But you're the best writer I know, and I've never been drawn into reading someone's work as much as I have yours. Do you think you could send me some of your stuff sometime? I could give you some comments even, if you ever want them._

The response had been fairly soon and enthusiastic for Jughead. _I'd be happy to. Make sure you let me know what you think, okay? In detail, if possible. Not a lot of people want to read my stuff._

Thus, after a hard day's work at the ranch, Kevin regularly found himself curled up in a squashy armchair in the family room, acting as an editor of sorts. Though he was tired, he found that he truly didn't mind reading what Jughead wrote. His prose was very strong and engaging, easily capturing Kevin's attention and keeping him engrossed the entire time. While the style could become a touch melodramatic at times, it was nonetheless a welcome distraction from worry over Wes and what Kevin would once the summer ended. Though it might have sounded strange, Jughead's writing went a long way toward helping Kevin keep sane. So, even though his muscles ached from ranch work and his grandparents tutted disapprovingly about how much time he spent with his laptop, he still read through what Jughead had sent to him and added his own commentary through a shared file on Google Docs.

"Aren't we interesting enough for you, Kevin?" his grandmother asked him, half-joking, half-serious. "Do you always have to have that computer out?"

Kevin shrugged, his eyes glued to the screen as he waited tensely for Jughead's name to appear on the Google Doc as one of the current viewers. It might seem creepy, but it was his main way of knowing Jughead was alive and well in real time, that Wes hadn't done anything yet.

And if Wes did do anything, Jughead would hopefully know to trust Kevin and tell him, know that Kevin would protect him.

Kevin's stomach twisted with guilt as he remembered how quickly he had run from Riverdale. Helping Jughead with Wes, if Wes were to go against their bargain, would be the least possible thing he could do.

His grandfather snorted at his lack of response to the question, rolling his eyes at his grandmother. "He can't hear you. Off in his own little world. These kids, they wouldn't know what to do with anything that doesn't have a screen. They're obsessed."

Jughead's name popped up on the Doc, and Kevin let out a long exhale of relief, his shoulders sagging as tension eased away for the moment.

"Not obsessed," he said with a patient smile, snapping the laptop closed to give his grandparents his full attention. "Just helping out a friend."

 _One that I endangered,_ he added silently, self-reproach coursing through him once again.

If there was one good thing about his work on the ranch, it was that it was so demanding and exhausting that Kevin didn't have much time to think about Wes and his threats. And while he called his father weekly, checking to ensure that he was all right and cultivating the idea that he himself was perfectly fine where he was, he found himself wishing he didn't have to think about Wes or Riverdale at all.

He knew that it was selfish. He knew that he needed to take responsibility for the problems he had created. But honestly, he just wanted to leave them behind, even as much as he knew that he couldn't.

* * *

When he'd finished discussing life on the ranch with his father, Kevin tried to probe for information about Wes as naturally as possible.

"So, how have things been at the station?" he asked, forcing his tone to remain casual. "Are you and Terri keeping everyone in line?"

"Sure are. And Terri and Ed want us to come over and have dinner with them one of these nights," Tom replied.

Eduardo "Ed" Lopez was Terri's husband. Their oldest daughter, Ginger, was one of Kevin's friends and classmates from school.

"And Wes?" Kevin's heart was pounding. "How is he?"

"He's great," Tom said easily as he made the final turn into Riverdale. "Actually, he's been an enormous help to Terri and I. I can't think of what I'd do without him. Next to Terri, he's become my right-hand man."

"Oh." Kevin swallowed, dread coiling in his stomach as they passed the sign welcoming them into Riverdale (The town with pep!). "That's great."

When they pulled into the driveway of the house, Kevin's heart was practically in his throat, and even though he tried to keep his breathing even, his palms were sweating and his hands trembling. The symptoms did not go unnoticed by his father.

"Sweetheart, are you sure you're all right?" he asked, alarm in his tone. He reached out to smooth a lock of Kevin's hair back from his forehead. "You look terrible."

"Probably just a bit jetlagged," Kevin replied, his stomach churning with fear at how easily his father was able to read him. He needed to get better at covering for himself, or there would be trouble ahead. "I'll feel better tomorrow, probably."

He went to open the door of the car, but his father stopped him.

"Stay here," Tom commanded him, worry clear on his face. "I'll help you to the door."

"Dad, you don't need to do that," Kevin protested, but his father wouldn't hear otherwise, and insisted on putting an arm around his shoulders and guiding him gently but swiftly into the house.

As Tom led him to the front door, a small gray cat hopped up on the porch, tilting its head curiously and observing them with large yellow eyes, before wandering up to briefly brush against Tom's legs and then vanishing into the front garden.

"New friend of yours?" Kevin asked with a faint smile as Tom ushered him into the family room and settled him on the couch.

"The cat started hanging around a few days after you left," Tom explained, adjusting the pillows so that Kevin could have maximum comfort. "Figured it couldn't hurt to give her some food every so often."

Kevin nodded, but he was only half-listening. It was strange to be home. He'd spent so much time over the summer alternating between wishing to be back in Riverdale and dreading his inevitable return that it now felt surreal to be in his home once more. But nevertheless, he was there. The couch he was sitting on, worn but comfortable, the family photos lining the mantle of the enormous stone fireplace, the sunlight streaming through the windows to reflect on the copper lamps, and his dad fussing over him—this was his home, warm and familiar.

He felt safe here. He felt safe with his father. And he needed to make sure his father and everyone else he cared about remained safe.

Tom laid a hand on Kevin's forehead, checking his temperature. "No fever. Still, I want you to rest here for a little while, okay?"

"It's my luggage in the trunk," Kevin reminded him as he began to stand. "I should be the one to help carry it in."

"Rest for right now," Tom said firmly, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down into the cushions. "I'm going to bring you something to eat."

Kevin shook his head. "You don't have to. I was planning on meeting the gang at Pop's in about an hour. If that's okay."

"Eat something now and just sit for a little while, and then you can go hang out with your friends." He pressed a gentle kiss to Kevin's temple before pulling him into a hug.

"All right," Kevin agreed, unwilling to argue with his father when he knew how worried he was.

After Kevin ate a small bowl of fruit salad and several crackers with hummus, his father deemed him well enough to go out with his friends, though he insisted on dropping him off at corner by the diner.

"It's not at all out of my way," Tom reassured him. "I have to go into the station anyway to check in. I left Wes holding down the fort."

Even the mention of the name brought dread to spike through Kevin, and he hurried to change the subject. "Well, you won't have to worry about giving me rides anymore. I practiced driving out on the ranch all summer, and I've made an appointment to take my driver's test."

Tom chuckled. "And then you'll get to be the de facto driver for your friends, since you'll be the only one with a license. But I guess you could use the truck for school once the year starts."

"Really?" Kevin asked, surprised.

"Why not? Between my patrol car and the Toyota, I've got my bases covered." Tom gave him a smile. "It's all yours, kiddo."

Happiness bloomed within Kevin as he thought of all the possibilities a car would open up—roadtrips, camping on the weekends, and midnight movies.

"Thanks, Dad," he said, unable to keep a grin off of his face.

"No problem," Tom said warmly. "Go inside and have fun with your friends. But if you start feeling sick again, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

"Okay," Kevin agreed, unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Kevin, I mean it." Tom gripped his shoulder. "I want you to be safe, you got it?"

I want you to be safe, too , Kevin replied silently, but outwardly, he just gave a nod and opened the car door. "Okay, Dad. I promise I'll call if I need you."

Tom nodded. "Good. And let me know if you're going to be later than ten."

"Will do." Kevin gave his father a smile before exiting the car and stepping onto the sidewalk to begin the brief walks to Pop's.

Though worry still lurked within Kevin, the low level of distress that weighed on him constantly since that night with Wes, he tried to cheer himself up as he approached the diner, glancing fondly up at the familiar neon pink sign.

You're going to see your friends for the first time all summer, he reminded himself. You're allowed to be happy about that.

And besides, he recalled, his heart tightening as he grasped the door, this is your chance to make sure everything is okay with Jughead.

* * *

Four months ago, Veronica wouldn't have been caught dead in a place like Pop's. She would have sniffed at the retro-style decorations and deemed the retro style tacky, and dismissed the food as greasy and the diner patrons as yokels.

But now in late August, as Veronica sat across the booth from Archie and Jughead with Betty sitting beside her, listening to the three of them discuss if Batman Vs Superman was or wasn't worse than Wolverine: Origins, she was just glad to be with a group of friends. However, she would be lying if she said she didn't feel a slight twinge of nervousness at meeting Kevin Keller, the final member of the Riverdale quartet.

She'd hit it off no problem with Archie, Betty, and Jughead, and they'd become great friends since her arrival in town in early June. But since Kevin was away with his grandparents for the summer, Veronica hadn't had the chance to meet him until this night.

The bell above the door jangled, and Veronica automatically swivelled her head to check to see who it was, her heart thrumming with anticipation. She was slightly disappointed to see that it was a tall Asian teen and another youth, this one built like a tree trunk, but then she quickly brightened: both boys were very cute.

Betty broke off from her conversation with Archie and Jughead to point out the two boys to Veronica. "That's Reggie Mantle and Moose Mason."

"They play on the football team with me," Archie chimed in.

"Hmm." Veronica eyed the two boys with interest from across the restaurant, pleased that the dinner crowd was dispersing and thus allowing her a better view. "They certainly have quite notable . . . assets," she observed with a mischievous smile, looking them over from head to toe, her gaze lingering on their upper thighs.

But another jangle from the bell interrupted her appraisal, and she shifted her gaze to the newcomer, finding that Kevin Keller had arrived. Even when he stood in the doorway, surveying the diner to locate his friends, she recognized him from Betty's Instagram.

It couldn't be denied that Kevin was handsome, with finely carved features, gleaming green eyes, and dark chestnut hair that he wore loose and free of product. His complexion was clear, and he had an evident tan. But there was also a worn, unhealthy element to his appearance, as if he'd been ill for a significant amount of time. His face was drawn, and there were Cesare-like dark circles shadowing his eyes. In Betty's photos, Kevin had been tall and lean with a fair amount of muscle definition, but though his t-shirt plainly displayed that he'd kept his muscles, he was now noticeably thinner.

Kevin's eyes landed on their table, recognition flashing across his face, and then a slight frown creased his features as he noticed Veronica. His gaze locked with hers as he moved across the checkered floor toward them, flicking up and down, assessing her just as she had done to Reggie and Moose just seconds ago.

Instinctively, Veronica smoothed the skirt of her vintage A-line dress and adjusted the embroidered headband that held back her sleek curtain of dark hair. She typically wasn't self-conscious—her natural charisma rarely allowed for it. But she was in a new place and about to start a new school, so she without a doubt wanted to keep the friends she'd already made. Which meant getting along with her friends' friends.

"Hey, you!" Betty called to Kevin cheerfully. "Great to see you again!"

"Yeah," Jughead added dryly. "It's truly magnificent to have a real, live cowboy in our midst." But he gave Kevin a welcoming smile nonetheless, and Veronica could tell that the two were old friends.

Archie, however, gazed at Kevin with wide eyes. "Are you okay?" he blurted. "Geez, Kev, you look like you've been sick!"

" Arch ," Jughead muttered, elbowing Archie, and Betty likewise sent him a disapproving frown.

"No, it's okay," Kevin replied, his lips pulling up slightly in a tired smile. "Ranch work is had, and I guess that it shows with me. And it's great to see you all." He sent a fond glance at Jughead, his expression lightening. "Thanks for all the stories you sent me. They helped me a lot."

Jughead gave Kevin a small smile in return. "No problem."

Kevin turned his attention to Veronica, extending a hand. "Hey, I'm Kevin Keller."

"Veronica Lodge," she returned, taking his hand and offering him a smile.

One of his eyebrows rose. "Any relation to Hiram Lodge?"

Even though she'd grown used to the scrutiny and suspicion that now followed the mention of her surname, Veronica couldn't help the stiffening of her smile. Once again she longed for the days that her family had been associated with wealth and privilege rather than a broken family whose status had been abruptly ripped away once her father had been arrested.

But she'd had a few months to get used to the idea, so she replied without flinching. "Yes. He's my father."

Kevin nodded, and there was a brief pause then, but Betty tactfully jumped in.

"Sit down," she invited Kevin, scooching inward so that there was room for him on the bench, Veronica following suit. "Let's order, and then you can tell everything that happened in Montana."

Opening his mouth, Kevin seemed like he was about to reply when the bell on the door chimed again, and this time a pair of sheriff's deputies walked in. One of them was a middle-aged woman, but the one that caught Veronica's attention was a very good-looking man who looked like he was in his late twenties. He had dark hair and a muscular build, with light-colored eyes that zeroed in on Kevin almost instantly and stayed there for several moments.

At the sight of the deputies, Kevin tensed, his jaw clamping shut and his posture going rigid as he turned to watch the two of them move to the opposite side of them diner. Though they slid into a booth without stopping to speak to anyone, Veronica noticed the man's gaze continuing to linger on Kevin, who didn't hesitate to return the stare.

"Kev?" Archie prompted, watching Kevin quizzically.

"Oh, right." Kevin shook his head slightly and took a seat beside Veronica, but his posture was still tense. "Honestly, not much happened out there. The best thing was that I learned how to drive. I'll be taking my license test next week, and my dad says that I can use his truck."

"Does that mean you won't be catching rides with me anymore?" A new voice asked, and Veronica turned to find Moose approaching their table, a bag of food in his hand.

She took a moment to check him out again, noting his strong jaw and warm brown eyes. But she couldn't help but notice that he was looking at Kevin with a distinct happiness, as if he were the only person in the room he wanted to see.

Kevin's faint smile grew ever so slightly wider at Moose's arrival, though he still didn't relax. "Not anymore, but maybe we can drag race sometime."

Reggie joined them as well, snorting at Kevin's remark. "Yeah, you mean if we finally fix up that car like we've been meaning to for the past sixth months." He tugged on Moose's arm before moving toward the door. "C'mon, we gotta go meet Cheryl and Josie."

Moose followed him, albeit reluctantly, giving Kevin a soft smile before leaving. "See you around, Keller. I'll be looking for you." He cast a wave at the entire group. "Have a good 't party too hard."

Kevin nodded. "Bye, Moose. Take care."

Veronica waited until he and Reggie had gone before clutching Kevin's arm excitedly. "He's totally into you!"

Kevin shrugged. "You don't know that."

"But he is!" Betty insisted. "You should ask him to the back-to-school dance. Then we could all go in a group."

"And you'd make a great couple, with the both of you being so tall," Archie reasoned.

"And once they band together, they could combat tall poppy syndrome," Jughead added, only to receive four blank stares in return.

He huffed, obviously irritated at their ignorance. "It's from Aristotle. Seriously, guys, read a book."

Betty rolled her eyes playfully. "Oh, yes. Because we all know it's only the great Jughead Jones who likes to read," she teased, reaching across the table to grab his hand.

"And I read plenty!" Archie protested. "I finished a Dan Brown novel just the other day!"

Veronica grinned at them, but, eager to bond with the fourth member of the friend group, she then redirected her attention to Kevin. "What do you think about dating Moose? Would you be into it? Are you into him?"

"I . . ." Kevin seemed conflicted at the question, a variety of emotions flickering on his features too quickly for her to catch them all.

Instead of answering her, Kevin looked back toward the table with the two deputies. Veronica followed his gaze to see that he was once again staring intently at the man of the duo.

Noticing their gazes, the man gave them a congenial smile that highlighted his handsome features and tipped his hat to the both of them.

A scoff escaped Kevin's mouth at the sight, and he whipped his head away from that direction as if he'd been slapped. His hands had been laying still, but now he moved them to clench the edge of the table in a white-knuckled grip as he fixed his gaze straight ahead, gritting his teeth as if he was trying to grind them into dust.

Glancing back at the deputy and then again at Kevin, Veronica was at a loss as to what had triggered the reaction. She looked to her friends to see if they'd noticed. Archie and Betty were still playfully bantering, but Jughead was observing Kevin's actions as well, a slight frown on his features.

There was something distinctly not right about Kevin and the deputy, Veronica concluded. And, she decided, as her eyes sought out Jughead's, she was going to find out what the big secret was.


	3. Chapter 3

Wes showed up at the house on the very last day of summer vacation.

Kevin was just returning home after an evening run, his limbs aching and his muscles heavy, perspiration running down his forehead and bare chest due to the sticky, humid air. After cross country practice that morning, it wasn't actually necessary for him to go out running for a second time that day, but with anxiety churning in his stomach every moment that his father was on duty, he'd wanted to distract himself. And for about the past hour, it had worked, with his only focus being pushing himself as far and as fast as he could. But in the growing dim of the evening, he found his energy completely drained, subsiding alongside the sun, leaving him with no choice but to return home.

A mixture of relief and trepidation churned inside of him when he turned down the road to where they lived on a quiet, isolated side street where the houses were separated by large lawns and thick brush. He kept up his jog to the edge of their yard and then slowed to a walk, ambling up the driveway. As he moved closer to the house, he took a moment to admire their elaborate front garden. Vivid blooms and leafy vines spilled throughout the front flower beds, window boxes, and front porch trellises, bringing vibrant color to their smart but somewhat subdued house. The vegetable and flower garden were two of his father's chief passions, and though Kevin didn't at all share his interest, he made a point to help him out with the maintenance every spring and summer.

But not this summer, since he'd opted to skip town.

 _. . . ran away like a coward . . ._

Kevin sighed and wearily ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair as he trudged up the steps to his front porch. He'd hoped at some point that he would at least be able to put Wes's threats out of his mind, bury away the memories of that night and pretend those events had never happened. But images were never far from his thoughts, and his dread and fear stuck close to him, surging up to douse him in cold whenever he almost managed to forget about them. The memories were constantly lingering at the very edge of his mind, not quite a chokehold but a noose that could tighten around his neck if he ever tried to step too far off of the gallows. And the worst part was that if Kevin ever made a misstep, he would bring Jughead and his father to hang with him. Hell, if Wes had tried to attack him that night, there wasn't much stopping him from hurting any of Kevin's friends.

Closing his eyes, Kevin tried to ward off the exhaustion coiling around his muscles and threatening to drag him down. He didn't know how he could keep going, how he could pretend everything in his life was fine, and a leaden feeling growing in the pit of his stomach that he'd so far tried to ignore was telling his that he, in fact, couldn't. Living life looking over his shoulder would screw him over either one way or the other, Kevin was sure, and it wasn't like he didn't need to watch for what was in front of him, too.

But he could manage, Kevin resolved, reaching for the front door. For his father and his friends, he would manage.

"Evening."

After months of living on edge, the single, unexpected word brought Kevin to jump, adrenaline rushing through his veins. His pulse only increased when he turned and found the owner of the voice.

Wes Ashford sat on the rough-hewn porch swing, the gray cat lurking a few paces away. With the growing evening dimness and the shadows created by the trellises that acted as a tall fence around the porch, Kevin hadn't noticed him right away. There had been no car to serve as a warning, either—Wes must have parked a few houses over, he realized, anger curling in his stomach, wanting to catch him by surprise.

Kevin intended to open his mouth and speak, but found that he could only stand and stare wordlessly as Wes rose from the swing and walked closer to him. He wanted to move as far away as fast possible, but it was as though he was locked into place, unable to so much as twitch as Wes approached.

"Heard you went out west to see your grandparents," Wes said casually.

It was a comment that would have worked in any situation—something he could say to Kevin at the station or at the police Christmas party or even in passing on the street. Somehow the utter normalcy of Wes's words just brought greater dread to knot within Kevin's stomach—at least if Wes had been harsh with him, Kevin knew what to expect. Wes acting as if nothing had ever happened between them, while true to his demands earlier in the summer, made his behavior harder to predict.

"Spent some time there, yeah," Kevin replied warily.

"Hmm." Wes came to stand right in front of him, less of a foot of space between them. "I hope that in your country-wide travels, you didn't forget about our agreement."

Kevin's heart hammered in his chest, and his throat suddenly went as dry as the desert. He knew Wes was making a point of intruding on his personal space as a way to intimidate him—and he was ashamed to say it was working. Panic sent his mind racing, but he still managed to reply in a somewhat steady voice.

"I've done what you asked." The words sounded rough and his own voice unfamiliar as he spoke.

"Good." Wes reached out and ran the back of his hand down Kevin's face in a gesture that was almost tender. But his blue eyes were hard, flintiness never once faltering in his gaze. "And for your dad's sake, you'd better keep doing that as well as anything I tell you now."

Letting out a shaky exhale, Kevin nodded, studying Wes's face, trying to determine why he was there. He was hoping that after their exchange, Wes would be on his way.

But no such luck.

"Aren't you going to invite me inside? You're making yourself a poor host." Wes chided him. With sudden force, his hand snaked out and gripped Kevin's chin, but his voice remained gentle. "And Kevin? You're going to want to be good to me."

Fury suddenly flared in Kevin's chest, overpowering his fear, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to spit in Wes's face and then drive his fist into his jaw. How dare he treat Kevin this way, how dare he come to Kevin's home, and how dare he threaten Kevin's friends and family.

But for now, he needed to obey Wes. So he merely gave a tight nod, fished his house key out of the pocket of his shorts, and unlocked the front door, letting them both inside. The whole while, he was very, very conscious of having his back to Wes, his stomach twisting nervously. He didn't like the thought of not being able to keep him in his line of sight.

And Kevin was right to be suspicious, because the moment he turned to face Wes after stepping past the threshold, Wes was already locking the door behind them.

Alarmed by his actions, Kevin moved to stop him. "Don't—"

But in an instant, Wes whirled on him and grabbed his arm, gripping his wrist with bruising force. "I don't want to hear it. C'mere."

He dragged Kevin into the front living room and pressed him against the wall. For a tense moment he just held Kevin there, and Kevin couldn't help but wonder if it would be worth it to headbutt Wes straight in the face again and then whale on him without stopping when Wes inevitably stumbled back.

All thoughts of resistance fled from his mind, however, when Wes commented in an infuriatingly offhanded tone, "You know, I've been waiting months for this," and then pulled him forward only to push him to his knees.

Reflexively, Kevin tried to rise, but Wes shoved him back down again, keeping one hand planted on Kevin's shoulder while he used the other to unzip his jeans and then free his cock. With deft movements, he ripped open a condom and unrolled it over his length. Kevin noted with disgust that he was already hard.

"I don't think I need to tell you what to do," Wes said, his voice unexpectedly quiet.

Bile rose in Kevin's throat at even the thought, and he couldn't help but remember all the times that he fantasized about Wes commanding him to do this very act, how he had trembled with excitement and anticipation at the thought. Now, cruel irony had the same thing happening in real life, but never in the way Kevin would have wanted it.

Trying not to think about what was actually taking place, Kevin complied with Wes's unspoken demand and took his cock into his mouth. While it wasn't the first time he'd been on his knees for another man, he wasn't very experienced, movements still clumsy and uncertain, and he steeled himself for Wes to lose his temper.

But his lack of finesse didn't seem to impede Wes, because it only took a few minutes for him to reach release, frantically thrusting deep into Kevin's mouth and practically choking him, all while keeping his fingers painfully knotted in his hair. Wes let out a long, guttural groan of satisfaction when he came, and at the sound, Kevin had never been so tempted to lunge forward and strangle another human being as in that moment.

Wes withdrew from his mouth, and Kevin fell back, gasping for breath. His stomach churned with nausea as he did, his entire body trembling with rage and shame.

If Wes saw the anger in his expression, he ignored it, instead pulling off the condom and stuffing it in his pocket before zipping his jeans and then offering Kevin a hand up. When Kevin didn't accept it, he grabbed Kevin's arm and yanked him up from the floor.

"Nice muscle," he remarked, squeezing Kevin's bicep. He only chuckled when Kevin automatically reared back from him. "You been keeping in shape for me?"

Kevin only glared at him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. In that moment, it was all he could to hold back the tears of fury and frustration that were welling in his eyes.

Wes patted him on the cheek, a gesture that should have been affectionate but seemed crass in the given circumstances. "Your father asked me to check in. Seems that he was worried about you. Said you haven't been feeling well lately." He ambled over to the door, snapping open the lock to let himself out. Before leaving, he tossed Kevin a smirk over his shoulder. "But I'll make sure to let him know that you're doing _juuust_ fine," he said, stretching out the penultimate word mockingly. "Until next time, Kev."

He exited the house, shutting the door behind him, and Kevin wasted no time in sprinting over to it and slamming his body against the wood to make sure it was closed, frantically twisting the lock back into place. Urgency pumping through him, he rushed throughout the house, locking every door and window, doing whatever necessary to keep Wes out, to make sure he couldn't take him by surprise again.

As he shoved down the final window and fumbled to swing the closure in place, a wave of exhaustion crashed over Kevin, followed by a flood of despair.

What was he going to do? What could he do? Even ignoring Wes's threats, it was just Kevin's word against his at this point. If he went forward to talk about what had happened, some people might believe him—Kevin knew his father would—but certainly not all or even most. Wes was respected among the police force—hell, Kevin's father trusted him enough to send him to check up on Kevin. The man had the community behind him.

What's more was that Kevin had no evidence about what happened, nothing that could lead to Wes's arrest. Without evidence to put Wes away, there was nothing to stop Wes from hurting his father or his friends after Kevin went forward with the truth.

He was stuck. For now, at least.

But if he could get something on Wes, Kevin realized, hope dawning in his chest, feeling almost like a foreign emotion, then he could have him arrested. It would have to be concrete, some sort of DNA or photographic evidence, but that proof and his testimony would be sure to to convince even Wes's staunchest supporters. He could get the evidence and be free.

But for now, he had to play along and do as Wes said without any kind of protest. Wes would get suspicious if he was suddenly eager, and any change in attitude, especially if he appeared willing at any point, could cast doubt on Kevin during a trial.

Still, he had a way out. He could barely believe it, but there was hope for an escape.

It was just a matter of keeping everything together enough so that he could make it out okay.

He could do that. It might take a while, but he could do that.

With a heavy exhale, Kevin trudged to the staircase and dragged himself upstairs and into the bathroom, turning on the shower. After peeling the sweaty clothing from his damp body, he stepped beneath the spray of hot water and stayed there for a long, long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Since her father's arrest and her family's subsequent downfall, Veronica had readjusted to certain facts of her new life. Even though they were no longer wealthy, the paparazzi never got tired of reporting on the daily activities of herself and her mother. Because they were no longer wealthy, she could no longer purchase the entirety of Louboutin's spring collection all once without thinking twice about the cost.

And once she'd moved to Riverdale, she'd needed to adjust again, this time to a small town where everyone knew each other. Gone was the relative anonymity of the city; here, everyone knew about her father and thought they knew her, which was, in Veronica's candid opinion, immensely vexing.

But there was one fact of Riverdale life that amused rather than bothered her: no matter what time of day or night, Pop Tate's Chocklit Shoppe was open. And the later it was at night, the more likely Jughead Jones was to be found in a back booth, typing away furiously at his laptop.

That was where Veronica found him when she went to speak to him on the night before the school year began.

He looked up from his laptop and watched as she walked over to him with two milkshakes in hand. The heels of her Blahniks clicking on the black and white tile floor didn't exactly make for a stealthy approach.

She gave him a smile as she came to stand by his booth. "Mind if I sit down?"

"It's a free country," Jughead responded with a shrug.

His words might have seemed dismissive, but he was already closing the lid on his laptop to give her his full attention, so Veronica took a seat opposite him, handing over the chocolate milkshake to him and keeping the strawberry one for herself.

She decided to start off the conversation with a somewhat neutral topic. "So, I was at Betty's house and I overheard Mrs. Cooper on the phone. She was lambasting Mayor McCoy with stunning ferocity," she commented. "Evidently, Southside High is shutting down due to health hazards. Riverdale High will be accepting some of its students."

Jughead nodded. "I've heard the same thing," he replied. "I know some people on the Southside, and they mentioned it to me." He gave Veronica a small smile. "Looks like you won't be the only new student at school tomorrow. Lucky you, huh?"

Neither Veronica nor Jughead acknowledged just how Jughead knew the Sleepyside citizens on the Southside: Jughead's father, FP Jones, was leader of the Southside Serpents gang. It was a revelation she'd become aware of halfway through the summer; Betty had told her of it in hushed tones, warning her that Jughead didn't like to speak of it. While Jughead wasn't a member of the gang himself as far as Veronica knew, he had enough association with the other members that many people thought he was.

"But you're not here to talk about the Southside," Jughead observed. "Spill, Lodge. What's going on?"

"Do I not have a very good poker face?" Veronica questioned, chuckling, trying to establish an atmosphere of openness and congeniality. "I guess I am out of practice, with no more society luncheons to feign interest in."

"You're fine," Jughead told her frankly. "I'm just skilled at reading people, that's all."

"And modest, too," Veronica remarked, amused.

"Cut to the chase, Lodge," Jughead said easily. "What do you really want to talk about?"

Veronica leaned forward. "Kevin. He was behaving very strangely the other night when we were here."

Jughead raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you honestly know him well enough to say if he was acting strangely or not?"

"Jughead, please." Veronica sent him a flat look. "I know you saw what I saw. The moment Kevin spotted that one police officer, he was engaged in a fight-or-flight struggle with himself for the rest of the night."

"That officer was Deputy Wes Ashford," Jughead informed her. "Local heartthrob, and one of the three primary faces of the Riverdale police department, right alongside Kevin's dad and Chief Deputy Lopez."

"He looks awfully young for such grand accomplishments," Veronica commented.

"According to my friends on the Southside, he's worked his way up the ranks mostly by arresting different members of the gangs and always finding something to pin on them," Jughead told her. "The Serpents is half the size of what it used to be because of Ashton locking up so many ofits members. And the other gang, the Ghoulies? Ashton arrested the leader for drag racing. When the police searched his car, they found that he was dealing drugs. Ashton had him sent away, too. With those kinds of arrests, it's no wonder he got to the top so fast."

"So, by keeping the gangs in line, he's certainly making a meaningful contribution to the town," Veronica mused.

"If you want to call it that," Jughead replied guardedly.

"Why wouldn't Kevin like him, though?" Veronica wondered. "Forget 'like' actually—-Kevin seemed like he was one step away from challenging the guy to a brawl."

"Hmm." Jughead didn't answer, instead occupying himself by tearing open a packet of sugar and adding it to his coffee.

Veronica's eyes narrowed. "You know something."

Jughead met her gaze unwaveringly. "I suspect something. It's not the same."

"Spill," Veronica demanded.

Jughead heaved a hefty sigh, but but answered her nonetheless. "So, this summer, when Kevin went out to be with his grandparents in Montana, he kept in touch with me a lot. A lot, a lot. He was reading my writing and giving me comments on it, which I enjoyed, but . . ." he shrugged. "I just thought it was strange. We've proof-read each other's essays for English class sometimes before, but then Kevin wanted to read all of my writing all the time, even my fiction, which I thought was strange. He's never been interested in it before, but then he suddenly wanted me to be sending him stuff almost every day. Keeping in touch with him wasn't bad , but I never would have expected to have that much contact with him over the summer, you know? Like, it would have been excessive even if we were dating and not just friends."

"That sounds like he was keeping tabs on you," Veronica mused. "Keeping track of your movements, maybe? I mean, it's not like he can easily cyberstalk you. You hardly ever post anything online anywhere."

"That's what I thought, too." Jughead frowned. "Why would he need to keep tabs on me, though? We're friends. We've known each other since elementary school. He can just talk to me. Unless . . ." he hesitated. "Maybe he was doing that because it's what Ashton asked. Or maybe it was something else. I don't know."

"That's one theory. Or . . ." Veronica tapped her finger against her chin, thinking. "He acted odd around that deputy. That same deputy is respected in Riverdale for all the arrests he makes on the Southside. And you have connections to Southside." She looked directly at Jughead. "What if Deputy Ashton was involved with something sketchy on the Southside, and Kevin found out about it? And Kevin was worried, so he started keeping close track of you?"

"That's not Kevin," Jughead said firmly. "He's my friend. If he knew something like that, he would tell me, not keep me in the dark."

"But that deputy didn't seem to like Kevin much, either," Veronica persisted. "Maybe Kevin has to keep quiet because Deputy Ashton is forcing him. Or forcing him to keep track of you, like you said."

Jughead leaned back against the cushioned seat of the booth. "I guess that makes sense," he said slowly. "Being a sheriff's deputy in a small town probably lets you in on a whole lot of secrets. It probably wouldn't have been hard for Ashton to find out something about Kevin that Kevin didn't want his dad to know. Now Ashton could be using that information as leverage against him."

"That can be our operating theory until we find out the truth," Veronica concluded, but then paused, looking at Jughead. "Assuming you want to find out the truth about what's going on with Kevin and Deputy Ashton."

"Yes," Jughead responded without hesitation. "Kevin is my friend, and the Southside are my people. I may go to Riverdale High, but that doesn't mean I won't help them."

Veronica nodded. "We need to make a plan. I'm going to start bonding with Kevin and see if I can get him to open up to me. Hopefully, if it's something serious, he'll want to talk it out with someone." Silently, Veronica prayed that her new friend wasn't involved in anything especially serious, but she knew he would need someone to stand by him if he was. "You need to keep getting Kevin to comment on your writing, especially your fiction. See if anything he says about what you write hints at what's bothering him. Also, you should check everything he worked on for you over the summer."

"It's a lot to do," Jughead remarked. "But I think we're up to it." He raised his milkshake glass. "Let the Jones-Lodge Detective Agency commence."

"May we always catch our man. Or woman." Veronica clinked her glass against his.

* * *

Back when they were first starting high school in their freshman year, Betty had told Kevin of her plans to make sure she was able to avoid her parents.

"If I sign up for a bunch of activities at school, I never really have to go home," she had explained. "They can't criticize me for having too much school spirit."

And while Cheryl had ruthlessly rejected Betty from the cheerleading squad, Betty's method had mostly worked, with her staying after school for hours almost every day of the week, making sure she never had to spend too much time at home.

Now, with sophomore year just starting, Kevin decided to follow her example—anything that would make it harder for Wes to find him on any given day. Jughead and Betty had already recruited him to write the police blotter section for The Blue & Gold ("You'll have inside info with your connection to the sheriff!" Jughead had enthused.), and Kevin was already sophomore class president and a member of the cross country team. It was probably enough to elude Wes, but he wanted to be absolutely sure.

Coach Clayton had stepped up to coordinate a peer mentoring program for the Southside High students entering Riverdale, as a way of helping the Southside students adjust to the transition. When Kevin heard he was looking for students to act as peer mentors, he immediately went to him to volunteer.

"Thank you for helping out," Coach Clayton told him. "I really appreciate it, Keller."

"No problem," Kevin told him with a smile. He'd always liked Coach Clayton for his friendliness and fair attitude. Moose had always spoken very highly of him, too.

Coach Clayton handed him a packet of information about the program. "Here's the list of students you'll be mentoring. There's four of them, and three of them are seniors. I typically wouldn't assign you to mentor upperclassmen, but we don't have any other options at this point."

Kevin gave him a smile. "It's all right, Coach. I'm just happy to help out."

Coach gave him an approving nod. "Good man."

Thus, on the first day back at school, Kevin arrived early in the morning before homeroom began in order to meet with his mentees. He brought along lists of school activities, with his own activities of choice highlighted in blue just in case they ever wanted to tag along with him.

The Southside High students arrived to meet with him as a group, all four of them walking into the empty classroom together. The leather on their Serpent jackets gleamed under the institutional lights, shifting with their movements. For a few heartbeats, Kevin simply met their hard stares, his gaze seeking out each of theirs and trying failing to read their stone-faced expression, before the lone girl of the group made the introductions.

"I'm Toni Topaz," she said, jerking a thumb at her chest. "We know you're Kevin Keller, our peer mentor. This is Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Joaquin." She pointed at each one of her male companions in turn.

"Hey." The teen Toni had referred to as Joaquin stepped forward to offer Kevin a smile and handshake. He was the only one who did, Kevin noted, but he was too impressed by Joaquin's charming smile to really feel insulted.

"Hey," Kevin returned, trying to keep his tone casual despite his piqued interest. He turned to give his attention to all of them. "So, we know each other's names, but I'll tell you a little bit more about me. I'm a sophomore this year, just like Toni." He sent a smile her way and couldn't help a spark of happiness when she gave a smile in return. He then looked at the guys. "I know all of you are seniors, but please don't let that stop you from coming to me if you ever should never anything. I'm class president, I run for the cross-country team, and I now write for the school newspaper. I also just spent a summer out in Montana working on a ranch."

His heart began racing as it always when he mentioned Montana, fueled by paranoia that someone would somehow determine why he'd run off there, but he forced himself to remain calm. "If you ever want recommendations on how to preoccupy yourself in a town where the amount of cattle outnumbers the actual population, look no further. But if you ever would like help with anything Riverdale-related, I'm the guy for that, too."

Sweet Pea jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "So, you gonna read us the riot act or whatever? That's why you're here, right?"

Kevin mentally sighed, but he kept his gaze level as he looked at Sweet Pea. "I'm only here to welcome you and be a friendly face for you. Someone to help you out if you ever need it."

Sweet Pea scoffed, but accepted the club list as Kevin began distributing them.

"I have lunch period A, and so do all of you," Kevin continued. "If you'd like to eat with me and my friends, you're welcome to do that. If not, that's okay, too. Just know that you can rely on me, all right?"

"Sure," Toni replied flippantly, folding the list haphazardly and cramming it into her pocket. "We'll just call you 'Old Reliable.' That can be your nickname."

"I'm flattered," Kevin returned dryly. While he wasn't entirely sure if it was Toni's natural instinct to make smart remarks or if she was attempting to be friendly with him, he appreciated any sign of camaraderie.

Fangs shifted restlessly on his feet. "If that's all, can we go?"

"One last thing." Kevin surveyed all of them, wondering if the next discussion would be a worthwhile battle, but then he just sighed and gave a mental shrug. Better they hear it from him than Weatherbee. "Our school has a ban on any gang symbols or colors. You probably won't be allowed to wear your jackets."

Sweet Pea raised his chin defiantly. "Our jackets representation who we are."

Kevin shrugged, knowing he wasn't going to win this particular battle. "Whether they do or don't, it's against the school rules. But it's completely your decision if you want to wear them or not. I'm just warning you."

"We can take them off for a few hours if we need to," Toni declared, sending warning looks toward the three guys. None of them looked especially impressed by her statement, but they didn't argue, though nor did any of them remove their jackets.

Kevin nodded. "All right, then I'm finished. Good luck at classes. Toni, we might see each other later in class." He turned to look at all of them. "Don't be strangers, okay? I really am here if you need me. And I'm finished cross country practice at five-thirty tonight, so if any of you want to meet outside the gym in the back parking lot to talk about your day, I'll treat you to a milkshake at Pop's."

"Right," Sweet Pea muttered, already headed toward the door, Fangs directly behind him.

Joaquin followed them, but not before sending another smile Kevin's way. "Thanks for the help, preppie. See you later."

Toni was the last to leave, giving Kevin an even nod before departing. "See you around, Keller." She hopped off the desk and went to join her friends.

With the four Serpents gone, Kevin allowed himself a sigh.

"That was a real success," he muttered to himself, feeling momentarily defeated.

But it didn't matter whether those four liked him or not, he reminded himself, gathering any of his leftover materials and sliding them into his Adidas backpack before entering the empty hallway. He was helping them, whether they realized that or not. And he was also helping Coach Clayton. And he'd signed up for the program in the first place as a way to delay his inevitable next encounter with Wes.

Wes.

In hindsight, Kevin almost couldn't believe it, but until that very moment, he hadn't even thought about Wes. He'd been too busy planning for his Southside students to think of him. Could it be that he wasn't good for the teen Serpents as much as they were good for him?

And yet, now that Wes was on his mind again, Kevin couldn't ignore the looming sense of disaster or the cold knot of dread forming in his stomach. Wes was going to come for him sooner or later. Riverdale was a small town; they would cross paths sooner or later. And when they did, when Wes forced himself on him again, Kevin needed to have a plan in place to ensure that was the last time. He needed evidence, and it was twisted, but he needed Wes to victimize him just one more time so he could get that evidence. Kevin wasn't looking forward to Wes forcing him again, but if he ever wanted to be free from Wes, it had to happen. It was cruelly ironic—he need to have sex of some kind with the man he hated in order to make sure he would never have to have sex with him again. But then once it happened, he could go to his father. And then it would all be over.

Kevin's footsteps slowed to a halt, and his stomach plummeted. He hated the idea of telling his father or anyone else. He didn't want to have relive any of his experiences with Wes or lay them out for other people to question and catalogue. But if he wanted to make Wes leave him alone, he had no other choice.

He swallowed thickly, the harsh fluorescent lights glaring down on him as he tried to fight through the anxiety that was slowly consuming him. Admitting what was happening to him wasn't something he considered himself able to do. He didn't want to explain that he'd been so naïve to go home with Wes, and that then he'd run away to Montana. And he was already too ashamed to try to explain why he hadn't gone to his father or the police sooner.

Running his hand through his loose brown hair, Kevin turned down the next corridor to make his way to his homeroom, and nearly bumped into Moose as he rounded the corner.

"Oh!" Kevin exclaimed, jumping back from the unexpected contact, his heart jolting in his chest. "Sorry, Moose! I didn't see you." Even though it had been an extremely routine mistake, Kevin could not help but feel shaken; adrenaline was surging through his veins, urging him to act.

Moose only gave him an easy smile. "Don't sweat it, Keller. I play football, remember? I can handle colliding with another guy."

"Still. I should be more careful," Kevin said with a self-conscious shrug.

"You're fine, you're fine," Moose assured him. He gave him a wink. "Let's be real, Keller. It's not like you're ever anything else."

Kevin gave a polite chuckle, though he felt very pleased by the compliment. "Well, I should let you get on your way," he said, beginning to move past Moose.

"Wait," Moose told him. "You got a minute?"

"Yeah," Kevin said, turning back to him. "What's up?"

"Would you think about—dammit. Would you—do you want to, uh, maybe go to the school dance with me?" Moose asked, his voice deliberately casual.

"I . . ." Kevin blinked, the question not quite registering with him fully. In the wake of his grim thoughts about Wes, he couldn't help but think he might be imagining Moose's offer. "Wait, what?"

"The back-to-school dance," Moose supplied. "Would you like to go with me? We could go in a group, if you wanted," he added hurriedly. "Reggie's parents are getting him and Josie a limo, and then Reggie invited me, so there's plenty of room. I know you're friends with Betty, so she and her date could come along, too."

"Um . . ." Kevin was at a loss for words. Once again, he couldn't quite believe that Moose was asking him out, that he was interested in him. And he also couldn't imagine going to a dance, not with as stressed and upset as he'd been feeling throughout the entire summer, but especially lately.

But when he saw Moose's hopeful gaze, he couldn't bring himself to reject him.

"Definitely," he said, forcing his lips up into a smile. "I'd be happy to go with you. And I'll talk to Betty."

A wide grin stretched across Moose's face. "Fantastic. I'll let Reggie know he can count on you being in the limo." He gave Kevin a wave. "I've got to get to the athletic office before homeroom, but maybe I'll see you in the lounge during break?"

"I'll try to be there," Kevin promised.

He and Moose separated then, each going their different ways as the first bell rang, signalling the official start of the new school year. Instantly, the typical rumble and chatter of students entering the building filled the halls as the Riverdale High population moved in the direction of their respective homerooms. All in all, it looked to be a typical school year.

But on his way to his locker, Kevin became aware of something that wasn't typical—or at least, hadn't been typical for a while. Thanks to Moose's invitation, Kevin felt a surge of genuine hope for the future, an emotion he hadn't experienced in months.


	5. Chapter 5

True to typical September weather, the evening air was cloying and muggy when Kevin left the school building after practice had finished. With a grimace, he ran his hand through his hair, which was still damp from the quick shower he'd grabbed in the locker room to freshen up before Pop's. While he hoped it would dry before long, the humid weather bore the risk of keeping his hair moist and heavy during the entire time he was out, making him look unkempt and scruffy.

Hefting his backpack on one shoulder and his gym bag on the other, Kevin settled in to wait for a few minutes to see if any of the Serpents would show up to accept his offer of a milkshake. Withdrawing his phone to respond to the texts he had waiting, he shot off a reply to Jughead about the school paper and one to Archie about tutoring. However, he paused at a text from Betty, unsure of how to respond, even though the message itself was fairly mundane.

 _ **Betty:**_ _The back-to-school dance is this weekend! What would you think about going with me, Archie, Veronica, and Jughead?_

Though he began to reply to Betty, Kevin found himself hesitating, and then closing the app without messaging her back. He had yet to tell Betty about Moose's invitation—the time had never seemed right, and she was always surrounded by some combination of the same three friends she'd mentioned in her text. And now she had already agreed to go to the dance with them, only thinking to invite Kevin later on.

But then, why wouldn't she be making plans with them? While Kevin had been hiding out in Montana, jumping at shadows and wringing his hands over the prospect of returning the Riverdale, Betty had been living the life of a normal, functional teenager and hanging out with her friends. And growing close to Veronica as her new best friend and Jughead as her boyfriend. Betty was living the dream life while Kevin was stuck with the plot of a 90's Lifetime movie. Betty had a childhood best friend in the boy next door, a boyfriend from the rough part of town, and a new best friend in a fallen debutante who no doubt she found far more sophisticated and superior to Kevin himself. All with those three slots filled, there wasn't much room left for Kevin.

Recalling the laughter and the in-jokes Betty and Veronica had shared when they were at Pop's the previous night, Kevin felt his irritation spike. It wasn't fair. It wasn't goddamn fair that he'd been forced to leave and then Veronica had swept into town and taken his place among his friends.

But then again, life wasn't fair, and sitting around being jealous, stewing over some girl, who, even at a personal low in her life, had somehow managed to snag all the positive parts of his life at his expense, wouldn't make it fair.

He was being petty and jealous, Kevin admitted to himself. He was frustrated with how things were going, sick of this nightmare with Wes, and aiming his frustration at Veronica. He knew his anger was childish—Betty wasn't bound to him in any way. It wasn't like grade school, where one kid could be upset with one of their friends for making another friend.

Still, though. It sucked to see people he liked, people he was close to, moving on and being perfectly fine with him being absent from their lives. To come home and find out that he had been replaced.

Heaving a sigh, Kevin closed his eyes and rubbed a hand across his forehead. Blaming Betty, Veronica, or whoever for his misery wasn't right. Whatever the outcome, he'd already made his decision. Wes had pushed him toward them, but Kevin was responsible for the results, be it Betty replacing him as her best friend with Veronica or whatever else.

Besides, maybe it was what he was due for running away from his problems.

Suddenly, a hand clapped onto his shoulder, startling him and practically bringing him to jump out of his skin. Whirling around, Kevin found Joaquin DeSantos standing next to him, expression nonchalant.

"Hey," Joaquin said with a quick smile. "I didn't scare you, did I?"

"I was just lost in thought," Kevin replied hastily, his pulse quickening at Joaquin's mention of his fear. _He doesn't know about Wes. He can't._

Searching for a diversion, Kevin quickly glanced around the parking lot and sidewalk, looking for the other Serpents. "Are you the only one who's coming along?"

Joaquin snorted. "Are you kidding me? After you promised them cold drinks in this heat? Of course those three are coming. They're just going to meet us over there." He tossed Kevin a winning smile. "I just decided I would rather have a private ride over there with you, that's all."

Kevin was in the middle of shouldering his bags when he caught Joaquin's last words, and he paused, raising an eyebrow at the other teen before him. Was Joaquin . . . flirting with him? He wasn't sure, and he didn't want to be presumptuous, but he still felt his cheeks warming, flattered all the same.

"Well, then, let's go. My truck is this way," Kevin managed as he started to lead Joaquin into the parking lot, hoping his transition wasn't too awkward or his inexperience too noticeable.

The drive to Pop's was a short one, just down the street, but it was still a relief to escape the oppressively humid air and walk into the slightly dimmed but very much air-conditioned diner. Kevin welcomed the blast of cool air that hit them the moment they opened the door, but he didn't stop to relish in it for long, instead stepping over the threshold to determine where the other Serpents were awaiting them.

It didn't take long to spot them; with the time being too early for the dinner rush and only the stragglers of the after-school crowd remaining, the restaurant wasn't especially crowded. Kevin found the three teens he was looking for within seconds, spotting them in the big corner booth with the single long circular bench that curved around the table. Fangs and Toni were sprawled sideways on each aisle seat, barely upright with their legs stretched out in front of them, creating a tripping hazard for anyone passing by, while Sweet Pea slouched down in the center, a glower etched onto his face.

Noting their body language as he and Joaquin walked over them, Kevin squared his shoulders, steeling himself for a tense conversation. He had the distinct impression that their first day at Riverdale had not gone well.

As if reading his mind, Joaquin looked at the table and then back at him during their approach. "I guess you can tell that it wasn't exactly a stellar first day back, then," he said lowly, right before they took their seats at the table.

Joaquin gave Fangs a playful shove, pushing him further into the booth, and Kevin decided to sit opposite him, turning to Toni to politely ask her to move, but she was already schooching further in before he could speak. Noting their stormy faces, Kevin decided to forgo any small talk about the school day and instead immediately make good on his promise.

"Have any of you ordered yet?" Kevin asked casually, grabbing a spare menu from where it sat on the table.

"Nope," Sweet Pea informed him flatly. "We wanted to see if you would bother to show up first."

Unfazed by Sweet Pea's pessimism, Kevin didn't respond to the bait. "Well, here I am, so order whenever you like."

Sweet Pea nodded at Fangs, who then caught the waitress's eye and gestured her over.

"What'll it be, kids?" the older woman asked them jovially, peering over the rims of her cateye glasses at them.

"Four milkshakes and one iced tea, please," Kevin said politely. He looked at the four Serpents. "And the milkshake flavors will be . . ."

Toni jumped right in. "Peppermint," she said with a hint of a smile breaking through her frown.

"Green tea," Fangs stated definitively.

"Chocolate and peanut butter," Sweet Pea said, enthusiasm entering his voice for the first time that day.

"Blue moon," Joaquin said. As the waitress nodded and walked away, he turned back to Kevin, shooting him a smile. "It's kind of a mysterious name, don't you think? A little bit romantic, too."

"I . . ." Kevin wasn't quite sure what to say. Now he was certain that Joaquin was flirting with him, but it was so rare that anyone ever dad that he was left flailing, with no idea how to respond. And, of course, there was that dance invitation he'd accepted from Moose, he recalled, sudden guilt rippling through him. In his indecision, he found himself looking down at the table.

Luckily, Toni saved him by instantly responding with her own opinion.

She snorted in response to Joaquin's comment. "It's the same name of an aggressively mediocre beer that people make me serve all damn night even though there's plenty of better brews out there." She gave a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, the only feelings that name brings to mind is eternal disappointment and my patrons settling for less when they could have better."

"Seems to be a common theme with us Southsiders," Sweet Pea bit out, sending a bitter look at Kevin. "Us getting less and then being expected to be happy with it. And that hasn't changed with Riverdale High. Especially not with your Bulldogs."

Kevin frowned. "Has someone been giving you trouble?"

There were scoffs all around the table; even Joaquin rolled his eyes.

Toni leaned forward. "Kevin, no one's given us anything but trouble. That Cheryl Blossom girl and her cheerleader cronies—"

"Those Mantle and Clayton kids from the football team," Sweet Pea cut in with a scowl.

"And just about everyone else." Fangs sighed, a weary look overcoming his features that brought him to look years older than he was.

Joaquin reached for the container of condiments in the middle of the table, fishing out a ketchup packet and idly fiddling with it between his fingers. "Honestly? I could cope with all of that if they hadn't fucked with our class schedule."

Their class schedule? This mention was the first time Kevin had ever heard about it.

"Wait, what?" he asked, glancing around at all of them. "Is there a problem with your classes?" He wasn't aware of anything that had taken place, but he still wracked his brain, trying to recall if Coach Clayton had said anything about it.

There was a brief silence as the Serpents traded glances, seemingly hesitant to bring the matter to his attention, but then Toni spoke up.

"So, uh, you remember what you said this morning about maybe seeing me in later?" Toni began. "That we might have classes together?"

"Yeah, sure," Kevin said, not completely certain of the direction where she was taking the conversation. "I mean, it turned out that we didn't—"

"Exactly," Toni said, cutting him off. "And which classes are you in?"

"Honors classes," Kevin replied with a shrug.

Riverdale High had three levels of classes available to all of its students: honors classes for the academically gifted, college prep classes for students who planned to continue their education but were not especially driven, and basic classes for students who struggled with the curriculum. AP classes in a variety of subjects were also available to juniors and seniors.

Toni nodded. "Thought so. Think back, Kevin. Did you have any Southside students in any of your honors classes? Any at all?"

Perturbed by her question, Kevin briefly thought back, trying to recall each one of his classes throughout the day. And now that it had been brought to his attention, he realized that she was right: he hadn't seen any of the new students in class with him.

"None whatsoever," he realized out loud.

"That's because Southside students weren't allowed in any honors or college prep classes," Fangs informed him, an edge to his voice.

"Why not?" Kevin asked, thoroughly taken aback.

"Your school said it was an issue of logistics, that not a single one of the more advanced classes had any room and that they didn't have any other place for us other than in the basics classes," Toni responded, anger seeping into her voice. "So even though I was the top English student of my entire grade last year at Southside, Riverdale High sticks me in a class with kids who can't get through _Hop on Pop_."

"I was in the highest level chemistry class there was at Southside, and now that we've been transferred, I'm in the lowest," Joaquin contributed.

"They're trying to push us under the rug," Sweet Pea stated with conviction. "Trying to keep us out of the way from associating with any of the 'good' Northside kids and giving us as little as possible. That way they can say they made an effort before writing us off entirely."

"The only way in hell I'm getting into college is through a scholarship," Toni added. "I need to be in the top classes to show prospective schools that I'm a serious student—which _I am_ , and I have the report cards to prove it. These basic classes are going to be a strike against me when the scholarship review committees look at my transcripts—they're going to think I either chose these low-level classes because I'm lazy, or that I did something to get stuck in them, neither of which is true. Your high school's commitment to keeping down the Southside is fucking with my life more than usual, and truth be told, I am _pissed_." She concluded her list of grievances with an emphatic slap of her hand down onto the table.

Before Kevin could speak again, the waitress arrived with their drinks, and the conversation temporarily halted as the Serpents claimed their milkshakes and thanked her. Kevin accepted the bill, but then left it on the table as she walked away, giving all of his focus for the moment to the group at the table.

For several seconds, he struggled with what to say, not sure that anything he said or did would make a difference, either in reassuring them or in resolving the situation. When he'd spoken to Coach Clayton, he hadn't considered that he'd be getting involved in these types of issues—at most, he'd figured it would be a matter of occasional tutoring or maybe going to sporting events to support them.

And briefly, Kevin couldn't help but wonder if Coach himself had known about the Southside students being shunted off into the lowest tier of classes, or if he'd been all right with it.

But regardless of what he'd anticipated, Kevin had accepted a position to help them, and he refused to back down from that.

So he looked at the Serpents, new determination coursing through him, and made them a promise.

"I didn't know that our school was screwing you over like that," he said honestly. "But now that I know, I'll do everything in my power to help you."

Sweet Pea snorted. "And if there's nothing you can do? What are you going to do then? Take us out for a consolation milkshake?"

"Then I'll go to school board meetings and stake out the podium there until someone does something," Kevin replied firmly. "After all, I—" he took a deep breath, looking at the four of them. "I'm here to help you. You can trust me."

Sweet Pea raised his chin. "Seeing is believing."

"Then wait and see." Kevin looked at all of them. "I'm serious about helping you. But I'm going to need you to tell me what your priorities are. So my plan is this: each of you should draft a list of complaints about Riverdale High, about your classes, how other kids treat you, inconvenient parking spaces, or whatever other thing that's a pain in the ass. And then I'll take your complaints to Weatherbee and use my position as sophomore class president to make sure they're addressed."

"What can the sophomore class president actually do about it, though?" Sweet Pea pointed out.

"I can get an audience with the administration," Kevin told him. "I can make sure your issues are heard and not ignored."

Sweet Pea did not seem especially impressed, but he shrugged. "I guess it's something," he said begrudgingly.

In contrast, Joaquin seemed more optimistic. "Well, preppie, I appreciate you going to bat for us. Hopefully, this is a game we're gonna win."

"It damn well will be." Toni took a swig of her milkshake. "I play for keeps."

* * *

After collecting draining their milkshakes and handing over their lists of complaints to Kevin, the Serpents ended up parting ways. Kevin exchanged goodbyes with them as they left for unknown locations and, after offering, gave Toni a ride to the Sunnyside Trailer Park, where she lived with her grandfather. Once they arrived, Kevin, wary of navigating his car through the narrow paths between the trailers, especially as a new driver, parked off to the side of the road, He then decided to walk her to the door, trekking down the half-gravel, half-dirt path that wound around the various buildings, even while Toni scoffed at him for it.

"You really don't have to do this," Toni told him, as they ambled along side by side. "I mean, I'm on Serpent turf, wearing a Serpent jacket, in neighborhood filled with Serpents. You're more likely to get jumped here than I am."

Kevin couldn't hold back a surprised chuckle at her bluntness, but sobered quickly when she looked at him with distinct displeasure.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at you," he apologized. "I just . . . I'm impressed by how open you are. You're very straightforward, and that's a nice change from . . . everyone else."

And it was. With the burden of his secret with Wes and his lingering doubts about what Betty now thought of him given that she now had Veronica at her side, it was a relief to be around someone who was, at least on the surface, very honest and forthright. Kevin couldn't help but wish more people in his life were like that—it would make his ordeal with Wes much more bearable.

Then again, he internally sighed, if he himself were more honest, he would have been able to tell someone about Wes by now.

"I appreciate people who don't bullshit around," Toni told him with no hesitation, coming to a halt beside one of the trailers. "I'm waiting to see if you're one of those people." She gave him a nod, and then climbed the steps to the door. "Good night, Keller."

"Night, Toni," Kevin found himself replying reflexively, even as his mind was whirling with thoughts about her parting words.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned away and began the walk back to his truck, trying to remember the precise direction Toni had gone when she'd woven in and out between the trailers. He couldn't help but muse on what she'd said and what he'd learned about the treatment of the Southside students. Sweet Pea's anger came to mind as well, and Kevin thought back to his condemnation of Riverdale High: _That way they can say they made an effort before writing us off entirely._

If the Serpents' view on what Riverdale High was doing was accurate, Riverdale High's actions were inexcusable. But then, Kevin himself wasn't a lot better. He'd decided to help out the Southside students not because he actually wanted give them any kind of aid, but as a distraction for himself from Wes. He hadn't considered what they would need or to what extent he'd fight for them—he'd just selected them as a convenient way to avoid his problems.

And now that he saw the issues plaguing them, he felt terrible for it. He had been vaguely aware that the Southside had been a growing concern in Riverdale for years, that it had issues with poverty and crime, but he'd never been spurred into actually doing anything to improve the area. Now, here he was, taking action, but for himself rather than for anyone who was actually a Southside resident.

But that would change, he vowed to himself. Toni, Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Joaquin—they and all the other Southside students were being treated unfairly, and he would help them. Not for himself, not for his ego, but because what was happening to them wasn't right.

His resolution clear in his mind, Kevin's stride grew just a little bit more determined, even as the fiery red sun began to dip below the horizon. The lack of any overhead light, along with the ever-lengthening evening shadows, created deep pockets of gloom throughout the park, but he barely noticed.

Yet whatever bravery or strength he felt in that moment, it soon gone. Because as he rounded a corner and just passed by the front of another trailer, there was a slam of a screen door and then an all too familiar voice spoke from behind him.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

The blood in Kevin's veins ran cold as he found himself unwillingly stopping, suddenly rendered unable to move by the growled demand. Fear and dread coiling unpleasantly in his stomach, he found himself turning around even as every instinct in his body was screaming at him to run.

Wes Ashton was stomping down from one of the trailers Kevin just passed by. As he descended the steps, his face moved in and and out of the shadows, but when the light highlighted his features, it revealed the look of calculation in his eyes.

Kevin wanted to move. Wanted to run. But it was like he was in a nightmare, his body refusing to obey his commands. And he was left frozen in place as Wes reached the grass and grew closer and closer. His approach seemed at once all too quick and yet also agonizingly long, filling Kevin with both the anxiety of waiting and the certainty that Wes was unavoidable.

But in the midst of his fear, a new thought swept into Kevin's mind with searing clarity.

 _You could seduce him._

And he could. He could put his plan into action and try to trap Wes, attempt get enough evidence from him to take it to his father and then get rid of Wes for good.

"Out here all alone, are you?" Wes commented, halting in front of Kevin, a smile playing on his handsome face.

Kevin's heart pounded harder than ever before, and he knew now should have been the time to act, the time to try to entice Wes. But even as the urge blared through his mind, he couldn't bring himself to so much as speak, let alone make any kind of pass at him. The very thought of giving into the man who'd attacked him, who, because of his threats, he was living life looking over his shoulder, filled him with revulsion.

He needed to act. Needed to do something. But he couldn't move.

Wes raised a hand, reaching toward him, and Kevin could only stare helplessly, still locked into place. His mouth was dry, his hands were shaking, and the only thing he could do was wish himself away.

Then a another voice suddenly broke out, shattering the tension between the two of them. "Is there a problem here?"

Slinking of out the nearby shadows like an alley cat was none other FP Jones. Though he didn't look particularly impressive, wearing worn jeans, a white undershirt that were stained with engine grease, and a rumpled flannel shirt, there was confidence and purpose to his stride, and he held a large wrench in one hand.

Wes turned from Kevin to scowl at FP. "This has nothing to do with you," he said curtly. "I suggest you go about your business."

FP gave a nonchalant shrug, unbothered by Wes's tone. "Actually, I was going about my business. Fixing up my bike a couple of trailers over when I heard a commotion. Just wanted to check to make sure everything's all right with the situation."

"It's fine," Wes returned, coolness in his voice. "There is no situation here."

"Great," FP replied saucily. "Then you won't mind me borrowing Kevin from you, then. Come on, kid, Jughead has some of your comic books back at the trailer that he's been wanting to give back."

For a moment, Kevin could only stare, simultaneously consumed with dread and also barely daring to believe he had an escape.

FP noticed his hesitation and gave him an encouraging nod. "S'all right. You can come with me."

Carefully not looking at Wes, Kevin hurried up to FP and fell into step beside him. FP cast him a sidelong glance that Kevin couldn't quite read, but didn't speak until they'd put several yards between them and Wes.

"You got a car here?" he asked lowly.

"Yeah," Kevin replied, keeping his voice down as well. "It's up at the entrance, by the road."

FP gave a decisive nod. "I'll walk you there."

They continued on in silence, and even though the distance wasn't far, the last bits of light were fading when they reached the truck, twilight giving away to nightfall.

FP didn't waste any time on goodbyes. "You'd best be getting on your way, now."

"Right." Still nervous from seeing Wes, it was with shaking hands that Kevin withdrew his keys from his pocket. He was just about to walk around to the driver's side, but before he could, FP clapped him on the shoulder and drew him back for a moment.

"Do me a favor, would you?" he said. "Look out for Jughead and the other Southside kids at school. I know you're friends with him, and the rest of them could use being friends with you. You do that, and we'll look out for you while you're around here."

His pulse racing again at FP's words, Kevin studied him for a moment, trying to figure out his meaning even as his head was left spinning. He wondered if FP knew about Wes, if he had managed to figure everything out just by watching the encounter between them. Logically, Kevin knew he couldn't have, but a part of him wished it were so. Because even if FP Jones, someone he didn't know at all outside of him being the father of one of his friends, knew about Wes, at least Kevin didn't have to worry about keeping this awful secret any longer.

And if FP Jones, leader of the Serpents, knew that Wes had threatened Jughead, he could take steps to protect his son. He was capable of much more than Kevin was.

A wild impulse seized Kevin, and for a brief moment, he was tempted to blurt out everything to FP and throw himself at his feet, beg him to do something about Wes.

But he knew he couldn't. Wes wasn't FP's problem; he was Kevin's. Kevin had gone to his house that night, gotten drunk with him, and then fled to Montana to avoid his problems. It was up to him to face Wes, not anyone else.

So he simply nodded at FP and then broke away from his grip, trudging over to his truck and unlocking the door before climbing in and starting the engine. When he drove away, he could see in his rearview mirror that FP stood and watched his departure the whole time, until Kevin turned a corner and each of them vanished from each other's view.

With movements more automatic thean conscious, Kevin drove back to his house, pulling into the driveway of of his home and turning off the ignition before it truly registered where he was. Once it did, he sat in the truck for a few moments longer, apprehensively watching the shadows cast by the house and garage, wondering if there were any surprises lurking for him there.

But no matter what was waiting for him or if there wasn't anything at all, he still had to leave the truck sometime.

Squaring his shoulders, Kevin hefted his backpack and his sports bag and exited the truck, locking the door behind him. He made his way to the porch with its curtains of vines, startling at a shape that suddenly leapt out of the shadows. Even the realization that came a split second later that it was just the gray cat did nothing to calm the hammering of his heart.

The knowledge that he was overcome with fear yet again that day abruptly rendered Kevin incredibly weary and drained, and he let his bags drop down onto the porch floor while he collapsed down onto the swing, feeling utterly defeated. The day's events washed over him, from the problems Riverdale High had caused the Southside students to Sweet Pea's justified disbelief Kevin could do anything to solve them to his own jealousy over Betty and Veronica to his confrontation with Wes to FP's potential indication that he suspected what was happening to Kevin. Piling one on top of the other, the list of problems seemed insurmountable, and Kevin could already feel exhaustion overwhelming him at the prospect of even trying to resolve them, if that were even possible at this point. And yet, each one of them needed to be solved, especially the issue between Riverdale High and the Southside kids.

And, of course, Wes was always there, too, never far from his mind but somehow never all that far from Kevin, as if he were some sort of ghoul that fed on human misery. God, what did he have in store for Kevin, for his father, for Jughead, now that Kevin had rejected him? Especially when he'd done it right in front of the leader of the Serpents?

The gray cat hopped up onto the porch swing beside him, temporarily distracting him from his misery. After considering the animal for a moment, Kevin cautiously reached out a hand to gently stroke its ears, and was pleasantly surprised when the cat emitted a rusty purr and rubbed its head against his fingers. Heartened by the enthusiastic response, he continued petting the cat, finding the motion oddly therapeutic after a long, fraught day.

But his phone buzzed with a notification, and Kevin automatically reached for it, finding an update from Betty's Instagram waiting for him. Betty hardly ever posted photos of herself, and Kevin suspected it was because she was too self-conscious. Instead, her pictures tended to be of nature, thrift store bargains she was thrilled to find, or some kind of DIY project she'd completed.

This latest photo was of Betty, however, but not just of Betty. It was Betty, Archie, Jughead, and Veronica, all arm-in-arm with each other. The girls stood in the middle, their arms around each other, while the guys were at the sides, with Jughead's arm around Betty and Archie's arm around Veronica. Archie was in his football gear, while Betty and Veronica were both in cheerleading uniforms.

For a moment, Kevin just stared at the picture, stunned. He hadn't known Betty had made the cheerleading team this year. He hadn't even known she was going to try out for a second time.

But then, he reasoned, trying to force down the growing lump in his throat, Betty didn't make much of an effort to include him in her life these days.

Of course, he'd been the one to walk away from her first by choosing to spend the entire summer all by himself, almost on the other side of the country.

Maybe this isolation was what he deserved. After all, he'd been the first one to impose it on himself.

Kevin looked at the photo of Betty smiling with her friends. He thought of every matter that demanded his attention and his ever-escalating situation with Wes. He thought of Moose's invitation to him to go to the dance and also bring Betty with him, as well as Betty's own decision to only include him as an afterthought. The memories surged through him, filling him with despair.

Even though he tried to force them back, traitor tears began to burn down his cheeks.

The gray cat, impatient with his lack of attention, hopped into his lap and curled up on top of his thighs. And obligingly, Kevin reached out to stroke the cat's head once more, even as tears fell from his face to dampen the cat's soft fur.


	6. Chapter 6

"This is it," Archie said, pulling his pickup truck around a thick grove of pine trees and in front of a large stone house that was brilliantly illuminated by the setting sun.

"Oh, it's so pretty," Veronica breathed, drinking in the sight of the Keller home. The property was set further back from the road and the houses in the neighborhood were spaced far apart, allowing for a large, lush front lawn and sprawling gardens. With the surrounding tall plumes of vibrant flowers and the various trellises laden with climbing vines and blossoms, the house's elegant design would have looked perfectly at place as part of a charming fixture of the English countryside.

Archie jerked a thumb back at the clusters of pine trees. "When me, Kevin, Jug, and Betty were kids, we used to love playing in there. We called it the Pine Tree Forest. On snow days, we would come over here and make all sorts of forts and stuff, using the trees and branches to help us build them." He pointed straight ahead. "And up there is a stream we used to love playing in during the summer." There was a nostalgic grin on his face. "God, we always had such a great time whenever we went to Kevin's house."

Vague loneliness stirred within Veronica at his reminiscences; it was yet another reminder that she hadn't grown up in Riverdale, that she didn't share any of these fond childhood memories. "It does sound like fun," she managed to answer neutrally as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride, Archie. I appreciate it."

"No problem," Archie replied easily. "See you!"

Hefting her cheerleading bag, Veronica hopped out of the truck and gave Archie a parting wave before starting down the stone-paved path to the Keller household. She couldn't help but feel slightly nervous about showing up at Kevin's both unexpected and uninvited. But she'd thought that maybe catching Kevin off guard would let her get to know him a little bit better. And then she and Jughead could find out what the story was with Kevin and Deputy Ashton, and if there was any malicious intent afoot. So really, Veronica tried to convince herself, she was doing what was best for Kevin by inviting herself into his home.

Reaching the front porch, which was partially enclosed by trellises, Veronica was just admiring the duo of antique copper lanterns that hung on either side of the front door when she realized with a start that she wasn't alone. Out of her peripheral vision, she noticed that there was someone else there, almost entirely hidden in the lengthening shadows.

Whirling around, her pulse racing, Veronica was just preparing to either fight or flee when she recognized the figure's face. It was Kevin, and he was sitting on the porch swing, partially obscured by the gloom, a small gray cat curled in his lap.

Veronica let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God. You gave me such a fright," she said, placing a hand over her chest.

For several heartbeats, Kevin did not respond, only gazed out at her from the dark. When he finally did respond, his tone was far from friendly. "Why are you lurking around my house?" The question grated out of his throat, the rasp adding an extra note of hostility to his voice.

Though slightly taken aback by his animosity, Veronica refused to be deterred. "I was in neighborhood, and I decided to stop by and say hello," she lied, strolling over to the porch swing and perching beside Kevin. She reached out to gently tap the cat's nose, grinning when the cat gently batted at her finger with a paw. "Who's this cutie?"

"Just a stray who sometimes hangs around," Kevin answered coolly. "We seem to be getting more and more of them these days."

Thrown by the masked insult and unsure of how to convince him to warm to her, Veronica was just trying to think of what to say next when the sound of footsteps crunching along the path brought her attention back to the porch entrance. Within a few seconds, a third person joined them on the porch: Sheriff Keller, Kevin's father. Veronica had already met him at the annual Andrews family Fourth of July barbecue and had been quite impressed with him. Even if he was older, he was quite attractive—it was clear where Kevin had inherited his good looks.

"Hey, Kev. And hello, Veronica," he said with a smile. "It's good to see you again. How are you?"

"Just fine, Sheriff," Veronica told him brightly. At least one of the Kellers was glad to see her. "And you?"

"Kev and I are great," Sheriff Keller told her, as Kevin gently urged the cat off of his lap and rose to greet his father.

"You know, Veronica, it's getting kind of late," Kevin said pointedly just before giving his father a kiss hello on the cheek. "Dad and I are probably going to sit down for dinner soon."

"You know, it _is_ late," Sheriff Keller mused as he knelt down to pet the cat and then stood again to unlock the beveled front door. He looked over at Veronica. "Have you eaten yet, Veronica? How would you like to join us for dinner?"

Unseen by his father, Kevin stiffened at the invitation, and Veronica was faced with a split-second decision: accept the offer and continue to try to win Kevin over but possibly fail, or politely decline because of the risk of antagonizing him?

Life without risk, Veronica decided in that moment, wasn't worth living. And playing by the rules all the time was excruciatingly dull.

So she rose from her seat with a genteel smile. "Why not? I've never been one to refuse invitations."

"Terrific." Sheriff Keller held the door open for her, and as Veronica stepped over the threshold, she could feel Kevin's eyes drilling holes into the back of her head.

* * *

While dinner at the Keller household was delicious—salmon grilled outdoors by Sheriff Keller himself, accompanied by a sweet potato casserole and quinoa salad that had been prepared by Kevin—Veronica didn't find herself enjoying it very much. Though she'd had her own fair share of obligatory social obligations back in the city, where she had to make nice with the right people in spite of her unethusiasm, she couldn't say she was thrilled to have to endure it once again in Riverdale. Still, she was the one who decided to charge forward with the situation, so she should have to deal with subsequent events.

Dinner conversation was mostly comfortable, with the exception of all parties carefully avoiding any mention of Veronica's father or his recent imprisonment. However, while Kevin was polite to her, he certainly wasn't overly warm, and Veronica had the distinct impression that he was making an effort to be polite for his father's sake rather than her own. When he drove her home after dinner, he ignored her attempts to start conversation and only gave the tersest of responses.

By the end of the evening, Veronica hadn't made any kind of progress of determining Kevin's connection to Deputy Ashton—there were only so many ways she could casually work his name into conversation, and Kevin had nothing to say about him either time she brought him up. If there was one thing she learned, it was that Sheriff Keller thought highly of the man, but she had nothing concrete to bring to Jughead.

"It was a total bust," she groused to Jughead on the phone later that night when she updated Jughead as she prepared for bed. "I didn't find out a single thing more about Kevin or Deputy Ashton, and Kevin couldn't have been more unhappy that I was there. If it hadn't been for his dad, I'm sure he wouldn't have bothered to drive me home."

"I mean, no offense, but that's what tends to happen when you show up at people's houses without warning," Jughead informed her. "I know you meant well, but seriously, couldn't you have just texted him about wanting to hang out?"

Veronica groaned as she sprawled across her bed. "You, too, Jug? Is there anyone who doesn't want to criticize me for this?"

"Sorry," Jughead offered. "But if it makes you feel any better, I managed to get something on Kevin and Ashton."

"Really?" Veronica sat up. "What is it?"

"Nothing major. But my dad said he ran into Kevin here at the trailer park, and that Ashton was here, too, hassling him. I guess he ran out of Serpents to screw with, so he set his sights on Kevin."

"Hmm." Veronica pondered the new information. "Jughead, have you tried asking your dad what he thinks of Deputy Ashton? If he knows anything about him?"

"Not yet," Jughead replied, but Veronica could hear the inspiration in his voice: Jughead was latching onto an idea. "I mean, I know my dad thinks the guy is a prick, but I can try asking him for anything more. And then I'll ask other people around about Ashton. Unpopular as he is on this side of town, I'm sure it won't take much to spill some dirt on him."

"It's a step in the right direction," Veronica agreed. "But I'm still curious about what dirt he must have on Kevin."

* * *

With a sigh of relief, Kevin stowed away the last of his needed textbooks into his Adidas backpack and then shut his locker door, the slam echoing in the empty school halls. The day had seemed endless, and now, after enduring all of his classes and then killing some time in the library before his conference with Weatherbee, he just felt incredibly drained. After the encounter with Wes the previous night and then getting stuck playing host to Veronica and her endless questions (he still had no idea why the hell she'd shown up at his house, and frankly, he'd been too weary to bother with her), he hadn't had any chance to relax and let down his guard.

And given that he was about to enter his meeting with Principal Weatherbee, he still wouldn't have the chance to relax for a little while longer.

But it was worth it, Kevin told himself, hefting his backpack and turning to start toward the lobby, where the administrative offices were located. His own comfort wasn't a priority right now. Helping the people around him who needed it took precedence.

 _Every time_ , he reminded himself. _It should take precedence every time_. He might have let down his father and Jughead by putting them at risk when he was away for the summer, but he wouldn't again fail those who were depending on him.

 _You can do this,_ Kevin encouraged himself. _You can make a difference._ He had a list of the Serpents' complaints that he'd consolidated neatly into one document, arranging it with concise bullet points and a table of contents. There was copy for himself and a copy for Mr. Weatherbee.

 _You're organized. You're ready. You just have to focus._

Just as he was reviewing his opening, a hand grabbed his shoulder out of nowhere, and Kevin almost jumped out of his skin. He was relieved to find himself looking into Moose's warm brown eyes.

"Hey," Moose with a grin, falling into step beside him. "You're looking pretty serious."

Kevin let out a long breath, willing his pulse to stop racing. "Class president business with Mr. Weatherbee," he lied, trying to keeping his tone light. He didn't want to rehash all of the Southside students' issues at this point, not when he would be doing it again only a few minutes from now. "Pretty routine stuff. Kind of boring, actually."

Moose slung an arm around Kevin's shoulders, an action that simultaneously brought a fluttering sensation to Kevin's heart even as his stomach dropped in a sporadic burst of dread. "Well, in that case, maybe I can bring some excitement to your life. Has Betty said anything about joining us for the dance?"

Spite surged through Kevin as he recalled Betty's text to him from the previous night, how already he'd been swapped out for Veronica as a relevant party in her group of friends. "Actually, she already has her own plans," he replied, forcing his tone to remain neutral.

Moose gave a good-natured shrug. "More time for you and I to get to know each other, then," he said with a smile at Kevin.

Kevin smiled back at him automatically, but a part of him found it almost unbelievable that he'd be going to a dance that coming weekend. Between his host of problems, from Wes's constant threat to whatever this bureaucratic nightmare that the Riverdale High administration was forcing the Southside students into, and the sudden crumbling of his social circle, a dance almost seemed like it was some obligatory high school pastiche, an outtake from a teen movie, rather than an event in his own life. It felt like it was some place where he didn't belong, where he wouldn't fit in.

Apparently his smile wasn't convincing enough, because Moose frowned at him. "You all right, Keller?"

"I'm fine," Kevin replied without even thinking about it. These days, it was a reflexive response. No matter what was happening to him, he had to be _fine_.

Moose didn't seem entirely sure, but he didn't press Kevin about it, instead switching topics. "You know, I was thinking . . . maybe if we have fun together at the dance, you and I could go out some other time? Or a couple of times?"

The question sent a thrill zipping through Kevin even as a voice at the back of his head warned him about the danger of getting too someone right now. He almost couldn't dare to hope. "You'd . . . you'd want to see me again?" he asked, casting a sidelong glance at Moose.

Moose gave a self-conscious shrug. "Truth is that I'd see you all the time if I could."

"Oh, really?" Kevin felt a smile growing on his face, and in a fit of recklessness, he threw caution to the wind. "I wouldn't mind seeing more of you, either."

"Seriously?" Moose's arm fell from his shoulders as he halted to look at Kevin in surprise. "You mean that?"

Resolving to forget about his earlier gloom, Kevin nodded with conviction. "Yeah, definitely. I like—" _You_ seemed too juvenile, too simplistic of a way to finish. "Being around you," he said instead, feeling a spark of pride for his smooth transition.

Moose clapped him on the shoulder, happiness evident across his features. "Hey, you, too, Keller." He let out an excited breath. "I have to get going to football practice, or Coach Clayton will have my hide. But I'll text you with the details for Saturday night, okay?"

"Okay," Kevin agreed with a burst of happiness that he didn't feel too frequently these days. "I'll see you around, then."

He and Moose exchanged goodbyes before Kevin continued on his way to Principal Weatherbee's office, doubt creeping into his mind the further and further he moved away from Moose. He couldn't help but think that even despite of his sudden surge of cheerfulness, something was about to go very wrong.

Sweet Pea and Toni, sans Serpent jackets, were awaiting him outside of the main office. As usual, Sweet Pea was scowling, but Toni looked slightly anxious.

"Are you sure you don't want us to come in with you?" she questioned as Kevin pulled open the glass door that led inside. "It might be better to present a united front."

Kevin shook his head. "I don't want Weatherbee to get defensive or feel like we're trying to intimidate him with our numbers. Let me try to work this out on my own, and if it doesn't work, then we can call in the calvary."

"Good luck," Sweet Pea said, his voice sincere rather than sarcastic for once.

Kevin smiled at him. "Thanks, Sweet Pea."

Walking inside of the office, Kevin squared his shoulders, once more mentally reciting his opening to Principal Weatherbee, but when he moved past the front desk and around the corner to where Weatherbee's office was located, he received an unpleasant shock.

Wes stood there, looking as handsome as ever in his hat and crisp blue deputy shirt. He stood with Principal Weatherbee, the two of them in the midst of a discussion.

The blood suddenly felt like it had fled Kevin's brain, and his skin at once burned with heat and flooded with cold. He wanted to stop—stop walking, stop moving closer to Wes—but his feet propelled him forward even as the room tilted around him.

He lurched toward where Principal Weatherbee and Wes were standing, his legs trembling so violently that he half-expected to lose his balance. Stumbling to a halt in front of Wes, he couldn't even manage to focus his gaze on him, his vision instead drifting past him each time.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." Each word sounded like a separate sentence that grated out of his throat.

"Mr. Keller. Hello." It was Principal Weatherbee who responded. "Starting tomorrow, Deputy Ashton will be our new school resource officer. With the influx of new students, it seems only reasonable that we increase security. After all, the safety of our students is of vital—"

The remainder of the sentence didn't register with Kevin; he was only aware of the blood pounding in his ears. Shock coursing through him, he could only turn to look at Wes for confirmation, even as he desperately prayed that it wouldn't come.

Fear knotting in his stomach, he searched Wes's face, dreading what he would find.

In response, Wes gave him a little smirk, tipped his hat, and then turned and went on his way.

Feeling as if he'd just been frozen in space and time, Kevin stood there, watching Wes go. A voice droned in the background, but he couldn't process anything but his own racing pulse and the breath rattling in his lungs, not until a hand suddenly clamped down on his shoulder.

Reflexively, Kevin pulled away, almost falling over as dizziness washed over him at the sudden movement. The walls seemed to spin around him when he did, but he wasn't sure: he still couldn't see very clearly.

"Mr. Keller." It was Principal Weatherbee speaking again. "Are you quite all right?"

Kevin wanted to speak but couldn't seem to get his mouth to move; it seemed like an eternity before he could form a response.

"F-f-fine," he managed to stammer out at last. Without warning, a sudden itch began beneath his skin, urging him to leave the office, leave the school, just get out as fast as possible.

"I have to go," he said, and then all but sprinted toward the door, grasping the only backpack strap he wore over his shoulder in a white-knuckled grip.

But upon barreling out of the office, he found that Sweet Pea and Toni were waiting there for him.

"That was fast," Sweet Pea observed.

Again lost for words, panic steadily rising, Kevin couldn't articulate a response.

"What happened?" Toni asked, her dark eyes glinting with concern. "What did Weatherbee say?"

Kevin shook his head, his instincts screaming for him to run. "He didn't. Me and him—we didn't talk."

Toni stared at him. "Why not?"

"I—I just—" once again, Kevin was overcome with the desperate urge to tell someone about what was happening between Wes and himself, but he pushed it away. "I can't. Talk to him. Not right now."

"Typical," Sweet Pea said, his voice laden with disgust. "You're just another flaky Northsider who couldn't give a damn about us. And to think I thought you might be different. Just wait until I till Joaquin."

But it wasn't Sweet Pea's recriminations that pierced through Kevin; it was the expression on Toni's face. Not anger or betrayal, but simple disappointment and resignation as she let out a quiet sigh and slowly moved to lift up her tattered army surplus backpack. His failure didn't surprise her. It was what she had expected.

Unable to cope with the guilt rising within him, twisting and merging with his fear to form some kind of hideous, all-consuming hybrid, Kevin brushed past the two of them, rushing out to the parking lot, wishing he could escape the lingering vision of Toni's face.

So much for his resolve to help the Southside students, he thought bitterly as he burst out the doors into the bright sunlight, the day's heat and humidity rendering the air heavy and difficult to breathe. But then, what had he been thinking, planning to help them? He couldn't even help himself. Wherever he turned, wherever he went, Wes was there, lurking and waiting like some inescapable curse.

 _Wes._

As if drawn by a beacon, Kevin's eyes finally focused as he spotted Wes's police cruiser in the mostly empty parking lot. And Wes was right there, opening the driver's side door to settle inside.

Seized by a wild impulse, driven by the sudden urge to resolve the situation completely, to just be done with it once and for all, Kevin decided to approach him.

"Wes!" he called as he strode across the tarmac, fueled by the last bit of determination he had left within him. His hands were shaking, and he felt like he could collapse from weariness at any moment, but he shoved onward. "Wait!"

Wes paused as Kevin hurried toward him, awaiting his arrival with smugness clear on his face. "Never thought I'd see another day when you'd come running for me," he told him, his tone gloating.

It was all that Kevin could do not to reach out and deck him in the jaw. He wanted so many things in that moment: to run, to escape, to scream, to hurry back to Toni and Sweet Pea and explain, to headbutt Wes directly in the face. But what he did was ask a question.

"Why?" His voice cracked slightly, the stress of the deluge of disasters in the past ten minutes taking its toll. "What's the point of doing all of this, coming to my school? Just to get at me?"

Wes let out an amused scoff. "C'mon, kid. Don't flatter yourself." His gaze narrowed on Kevin even as his lips remained curved up in a smile that Kevin once would have considered attractive. "Truth is? You're not that special. In fact, you're replaceable. Any other kid at this school is just as good as you are."

Nausea swelled in Kevin's stomach as he stared at Wes in dread, already suspecting he knew his meaning. "What are you saying?"

Wes shrugged. "It's not that complicated. If I can't get what I want from you, I'll just find it from someone else. What about that blonde friend of yours? Betty? Or that pretty Serpent girl?" He gave a theatrical sigh. "You know, it's a shame. A punk like that, no one would really believe her if she came forward to make a statement about an officer of the law getting too friendly with her."

A noise of disbelief escaped from Kevin's throat as he absorbed what Wes was saying. "You're one fucking bastard, Wes."

"A bastard who's going to be at your school every day," Wes replied calmly. "Who's going to be there watching you and all of your little friends and can choose any one of them to have in the same way I want to have you. Unless . . ." he deliberately let his voice trail off for effect. "You come home with me right now."

Kevin's entire body went cold even as he felt his face heat with rage. He looked at Wes helplessly, inwardly begging for the choice to actually be just some twisted joke, hoping against hope that even someone as despicable as Wes would find it within himself to show a shred of decency.

In the distance, there was the clatter of one of glass entryway doors opening and then closing, and as Kevin watched, Sweet Pea and Toni exited the school, their jackets back on. Neither of them spotted either Wes or Kevin, instead turning in the opposite direction and making their way to the side parking lot where their motorcycles stood, the bikes' chrome glistening in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, Kevin simply stood and observed their departure, wishing futilely that he could be going with them, before turning back to Wes as unpleasant certainty flowed through him.

Wes just watched him coolly. "Well?"

"Okay," Kevin said, trying to force himself to remain calm. "Okay, I'll go home with you."

"Yeah." Wes stepped around Kevin to open the passenger side door for him, a deceptively gentlemanly gesture. "Yeah, I thought you would."


	7. Chapter 7

When Wes finally pulled away from and collapsed back onto the other side of the bed, Kevin only felt the barest inkling of relief. Mostly he just felt empty, as if everything of substance had been ripped away from him, leaving him just a shell.

"Well, damn, that was even better than I expected," Wes drawled, reaching out again and slapping Kevin firmly across the ass. "You sure you were a virgin? You seemed a little bit too enthusiastic for that to be true, if you know what I mean."

Renewed fury and disgust briefly ebbed into Kevin, but ultimately he was still too numb to respond what Wes was saying. Instead of responding to the crass remark, he painstakingly sat up and rose from the bed, wincing as he did. Though Wes had been deliberately careful not to visibly injure Kevin, he certainly hadn't been gentle with him. Kevin had no doubt that by tomorrow he would have a number of bruises purpling along his hips, thighs, and chest.

As he tried to move away, Wes's hand lashed out and grabbed his wrist.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, a nasty smile playing on his lips.

"Home," Kevin said tonelessly, even as his heart sped up in his chest. When he blinked, he half-expected the surroundings of the bedroom to be wiped away, to fade from view like he were in some kind of nightmare that could be recognized as false and then soon forgotten.

Wes's gripped tightened. "So soon?"

"My dad is going to notice that I'm gone," Kevin replied woodenly, even as rage and shame swirled within him. The strange numbness persisted; it was as if he were a different person inside his head than outside. "He'll wonder what happened."

"You make sure he doesn't," Wes ordered him.

Another fiery blaze of anger flowed through Kevin, and this time his numbness shattered as he snarled out a retort. "Or what? You'll have him shot? Or have Jughead shot? Or do to Toni the same things you do to me?" He wished he could be somewhat more controlled; his breath left his lungs in short bursts, and he stared hard at Wes, feeling charged and wild.

But Wes did not seemed moved or impressed. "You're right," he remarked casually, as if he were just talking about the weather. "I could do anything of those things."

His nonchalance brought utter revulsion to flood through Kevin, and a part of him wanted nothing more than to grab the nearest blunt object and slam it repeatedly into Wes's skull until he lay dead there on the sheets. But another part, a stronger part, urged him to leave this house as fast as possible, to not delay a moment longer.

Wes wasn't finished, though. "Still, it seems like it was a mistake to ever use threats with you, huh? You probably would have come to me at one point or another." He dropped Kevin's wrist in favor of lifting his hand to caress Kevin's jaw. "It kind of rankles me, I gotta admit. When I think of how sweet you would have been to me if I'd just let you approach me on your own . . ."

Jerking his head back, Kevin sharply slapped his hand away. "I'm leaving," he snapped, glad that even though his body was trembling terribly, his voice remained steady and harsh.

With that, he grabbed his boxers and jeans, wasting no time in sliding into them, not even slowing down at the jolt of pain that accompanied his rapid movements. While he snagged his shirt, socks, and shoes, he did not pause to put them on; he would do that once he was downstairs, once he was away from Wes.

Stalking toward the door, Kevin flung it open, determined to get out of the house.

"Oh, and Kevin?" Wes called after him.

Reluctant as he was to stop, Kevin halted and turned to look back at him.

Wes gave him one last smirk. "Tread carefully. Remember now, I've still got that standing invitation to dinner with you and your dad."

The last time Kevin had the choice of staying to fight with Wes or fleeing from him, he'd chosen flight, and this occasion was no different. He hurtled himself down the stairs and only briefly diverted to the living room to slip on his shirt, socks, and shoes. During his minute sojourn, he caught sight of himself in a mirror hanging on the wall, and was rewarded with the slightest prick of reassurance: while he certainly didn't look good right now, he was only somewhat disheveled, not completely a wreck and not injured or marked in any way that would be difficult to explain.

Once he slid his second shoe on, adrenaline pumped through his veins, his instincts taking over, and Kevin bolted over to the front door, grabbed his phone and his backpack from where Wes had forced him to leave them, and for the second time in his life, sprinted away from Wes's house in the hopes of eventually escaping what had been done to him.

Aided by the urgency flooding through him, Kevin's feet rapidly rose and fell on the pavement of the road as he ran as fast as he could, his backpack thumping on his shoulder. Houses passed by him in a blur of colors and shapes, but Kevin paid no attention to where he was until several minutes later, when he was completely winded and had to slow to a walk to catch his breath.

When his breathing wasn't quite as ragged, he straightened and looked around, trying to absorb his surroundings and determine where he was, even though he couldn't particularly see why it mattered as of right now. With his rush of adrenaline fading away, he suddenly became aware of just how sore and aching his body was. Suddenly, he was slammed by absolute exhaustion, and he could barely move his feet along the asphalt. Thoughts flitted through his mind of just lying down across the road and closing his eyes.

No. Kevin had made it this far. He wouldn't give up now.

With a herculean effort, he dragged himself down the street, keeping an eye out for any familiar sights. If half-occurred to him that he could simply use the GPS on his phone, but tired and drained as he was, it barely seemed worth the effort. He was gratefully that this neighborhood seemed to be very quiet; not a single car had passed him yet, not that he had registered, anyway, and he didn't want to deal with any awkward inquiries from curious strangers.

But just as he was thinking of the one sliver of luck he had that evening, his foot caught on something at the end of the driveway he was passing by, and he fell to the ground with a sharp curse, scraping his palms raw on the hard surface of the road as he threw his arms out to break his fall.

"Sorry about that," a familiar voice said as Kevin remained there on the ground, too weary to move. "That skateboard is my kid brother's, and I've told him over and over again that he needs to start putting it away—hey, you all right?"

Footsteps crunched along the driveway as Kevin slowly started to pick himself up, his hands and knees smarting, all of his limbs twinging painfully, and a headache now pounding at the base of his skull.

"Wait—Kevin?" the voice asked almost incredulously. "What are you doing here?"

At the moment, it was all Kevin could do to push himself up off the ground, let alone answer or identify the voice. So when a pair of strong but gentle hands reached out to help him stand and then held him steady as he regained his balance, he was taken aback to find the his unexpected rescuer was none other than Moose Mason.

"Moose?" he questioned, half-dismayed, half-disbelieving. Of all people to see him when he was at the absolute lowest point in his life and looked like it, why did it have to be the guy who was taking him to the school dance just a few days from now?

"That's me," Moose replied amiably, but he was frowning as he took in Kevin's haggard appearance. "Hey, um . . . you doing all right?"

A burst of wild laughter swelled in Kevin at the question. Every part of his body hurt, he'd been forced into having sex with one of his father's men, and that same man was still threatening to harm various people Kevin cared about. And now, he looked like an absolute fool in front of Moose. This night was the very worst night of his entire life, even worse than the night Wes had first attacked him.

The first night . . . any urge to laugh abruptly disappeared as realization dawned over Kevin. That first night with Wes had been months ago, and Moose had found him and helped him then, too.

Nothing had changed. Three months had passed by, and Kevin was still trapped with Wes, still with no possibility of escape. Not a thing he had done in the meantime had made the slightest bit of difference, it had all just brought him back here, repeating the same scenario as before, as if he were trapped in some recurring memory he was doomed to repeat until the end of his days. A wave of despair enveloped Kevin; he still didn't have a prayer at stopping Wes.

"Kevin?" Moose prompted again, worry clear on his features. "You okay? Here, why don't you come inside—you don't look so good."

The invitation brought Kevin to push through his misery and give a proper response. "Thank you, but no." Concerned that the firm decline might seem rude, he hastened to add, "It's just that I got stuck here without a ride, and I'm trying to find my way back. You know, I have to get back home to have dinner with my dad."

A quizzical expression formed on Moose's face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but then seemed to have second thoughts, as he closed his mouth again. Several more seconds passed before he finally seemed to settle on a sentence he was satisfied with.

"Look, why don't I give you a ride?" he asked. "I have to go to the store to grab some stuff for dinner, and that was my little brother's skateboard your tripped over. Least I can do."

There it was, Kevin mused, struck by another flash of deja vu. Moose had given him a ride that first night; now here he was, giving Kevin another ride. It was as thought he was suddenly living in that Groundhog Day movie, the one he never could finish watching because he couldn't stand Bill Murray.

But if this was going to be his life now, who was Kevin to fight it?

"Sure," he said with a shrug, pain lancing through his shoulders at the movement. "Thanks."

Moose carefully guided Kevin over to his Dodge, and taking him by the hand, opened the door and helped him sit down, reaching out to steady him when twinges in his muscles prevented him from settling comfortably. Even through the fog of his exhaustion and hopelessness, Kevin realized that Moose was handling him with great caution, taking pains to treat him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. And in drained state, he couldn't help but appreciate the tenderness.

"You don't need to take me to my house," Kevin told Moose as the latter started the car. "My truck is still in the high school parking lot. If you just want to drop me off there, that would be great, actually."

Moose studied Kevin, his eyes remaining on him for much longer than was comfortable. "Are you sure you're okay to drive?"

"Fine," Kevin said briefly, turning away from Moose and looking out the window to signal the end of this discussion.

He hoped to find something to distract himself, and he did: as they pulled out of the Masons' driveway and around the corner, they passed in front of the house, letting Kevin see the front lawn. It was a nice house with a pleasant garden, but Kevin chuckled in spite of himself when he saw the variety of toys and sports equipment that was scattered across the lawn.

Moose laughed as well. "Yeah, I've got a whole horde of younger brothers and sisters. Guess you can probably tell, huh?"

"It's not a bad thing," Kevin told him, feeling relieved for the normal conversation, even as pain again spiked through his body when the passenger side tires hit a pothole.

Luckily, the drive back to the school wasn't very long; Kevin would have guessed that Moose's neighborhood was less than three miles away. Several times throughout the ride, Moose glanced at him and seemed to want to speak, but then just gave a smile and looked away whenever he made eye contact with Kevin.

"One thing I wanted to ask you," Moose began as he pulled into the parking lot. "It's about the dance on Saturday—I mean, we are still good for the dance, right?"

An unpleasant jolt ran through Kevin and he sat up, staring at Moose. "I thought we were," he said, wondering frantically if Moose had now decided he was too much trouble to bother with.

To his relief, Moose spotted the surprise on his face and rushed to reassure him. "No, no, we are! I just wanted to check in with you to make sure that your plans hadn't changed."

Parking in a space a short distance from Kevin's truck, he shut off the engine and turned to give Kevin his full attention. "I was just wondering—I mean, I know it's a thing to get girls corsages for dances. So, what I was wondering was, um, if you wanted one? And what color?"

The question floored Kevin, and for several heartbeats, he could only stare at Moose's expectant face, wondering if he'd imagined the words or somehow misheard them. But he was sure he'd heard them correctly, and he was left stupefied at the sheer absurdity of going from failing to help the Southside students and then being basically raped by Wes to now being asked about his flower preferences, of all goddamn things.

There was a swell of emotion he was too dumbfounded to recognize, and then he began shaking almost to the point of convulsion. At first Kevin thought he was laughing at the utter inanity of a corsage and a school dance compared to being forced into sex, but as his vision blurred and hot moisture splashed down his face, he realized that he was crying without being aware of it.

"Kevin?!" Moose's voice was extremely alarmed, and had Kevin been able to see his face through his tears, he was certain his expression would have been as well. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Though Kevin wanted to answer him, when he opened his mouth to respond, only a strangled sob came out. Mortified, he clamped his jaw shut and concentrated on regaining control of himself.

Moose reached toward him, then hesitated, pulling back a little bit, but then went through with it anyway, and Kevin found one warm, large large cradling his face while the other hand came to grasp one of his own.

"I'm here," Moose said emphatically, if a bit desperately. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

"I know," Kevin choked out, touched by Moose's words even if he wasn't able to convey it.

He managed to force back his tears and give Moose's hand a squeeze, blinking away the excess water in his eyes. "You're very kind to think about me, Moose. But you don't have to get me any flowers."

Moose nodded, still watching Kevin carefully. "Okay. Guess I'll bring my wonderful self then, right?" he asked, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

Clumsy as the attempt might have been, Kevin appreciated it. "That's fine. I'm looking forward to going with you. And I'm sorry about all of this," he indicated himself, "it's just been a tough past couple of days." Or weeks. Or months.

"We all have them sometimes," Moose said kindly. "You sure you're good to drive home?"

Kevin nodded. "Yeah." He opened the door to the car to exit, but then at the last second, darted toward Moose and gave him a peck on the cheek before stepping outside. "Goodbye, Moose. And thanks for your help, all of it."

Moose seemed too stunned to speak, but he grinned broadly at Kevin and waved to him as he left to walk toward his truck.

As Kevin walked, weariness weighed him down like bricks and his fresh injuries flaring up again, he couldn't hold back a sigh, knowing he'd made himself look like some kind of lunatic in front of Moose.

But when Moose's Dodge pulled out of the parking lot, he beeped the horn at Kevin, who in turn raised a hand in farewell. The exchange cheered him slightly; while he might have looked like an absolute whackjob, Moose didn't seemed deterred, and he'd been concerned rather than disgusted. And even with how thoroughly awful as the day had been, it meant more than he could ever say that in his moment of weakness, Moose had offered him compassion.

He'd also offered him a corsage for the dance.

A dance where, Kevin realized with a plummeting in his stomach, Wes would most likely be. Now that he was the resource officer, he would probably be expected to supervise.

Kevin closed his eyes, leaning against the side of his truck for support. He didn't think he could take seeing Wes again, not at the dance, not at tomorrow at school, not around town. Not when Wes would pretend to so amiable and normal toward him, like he was such a good guy, and any attempt from Kevin to push back on his calculated disposition would result in Kevin being the one to look like a bad guy. With as popular as Wes was, both he and Kevin knew few people in the town would be inclined to believe anything bad of Wes—it had been one of the many reasons Kevin hadn't attempted to speak out against him. Everyone liked Wes.

Everyone except for FP Jones.

Kevin's mind raced as he thought back to the previous night. When FP had seen him and Wes together, he hadn't wasted anytime in intervening. While Kevin had been paranoid that it was because he had recognized what was taking place between them, it might have also been just to cause trouble to Wes.

Of course, there was no guarantee that FP would help him—he certainly had no obligation to, especially not after Kevin had neglected to accomplish anything for the teen Serpents he was supposed to be mentoring. And as he had thought last night and still remained true, it would be irresponsible to push his problems onto FP and expect him to solve them.

But Kevin didn't need FP to solve his problems. He just needed someone who disliked Wes, and FP had certainly seemed to. Even if FP wasn't all that fond of Kevin and had no cause to be, he had even less reason to support Wes and probably would enjoy seeing him get taken down.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kevin unlocked the door of the truck and climbed inside, pain shooting through him from the injuries Wes had given him, but a spark of hope beginning to kindle in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, Kevin had an ally, someone who wouldn't hesitate to see Wes for what he was.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Will Kevin finally manage to tell someone about what's going on? Will that someone be FP? And if he does, what's FP going to think after the teen Serpents tell him what happened with Kevin's failed meeting with Principal Weatherbee? Let me know what you'd like to see happen in the next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8

The small gray cat was out on the porch as Kevin reached the front of the house, munching on a plate of kibble that had been left out for her next to her bowl of water. Even though pain spiked through him in protest, Kevin still knelt down to gently stroke the top of her small head, making sure to rub her ears, before entering the house.

He found his father in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Guilt surged through Kevin at the sight: making meals was usually his job.

"Sorry," Kevin rushed to say as he stepped further into the room. "I know I'm late, but I was going to get to that, I promise—"

But Tom just gave him a warm smile. "Hey, don't worry. I know you need a night off every once in a while. And—" he broke off, frowning as he noticed Kevin's t-shirt and jeans. "Didn't you go to cross country practice today?"

"What?" Kevin's pulse raced as he knew his dad had realized something was wrong. "I—I wasn't feeling well enough to go to practice," he fumbled out. That wasn't even technically a lie. "But I had to meet a class partner about a project we're working on, so I went to see them after school instead. And, uh, now I'm back here," he finished lamely, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Hmm." Tom set down the saucepan he was stirring and walked over to Kevin, taking him by the shoulders and looking him over. "You do look a bit under the weather. Maybe you're coming down with something."

Kevin nodded, desperately hoping that his father would accept his explanation. "Yeah, I was thinking of taking a shower and then going to lie down in my room." He was itching to step under the steaming hot spray of water after his afternoon with Wes.

"All right." Tom gave Kevin a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I'll bring something up to you in a little while, okay?"

Kevin's stomach roiled in protest at the thought. "That's okay," he said hastily. "I'm really not hungry."

"You should eat," Tom said firmly. "I'll bring you up something simple. Oh, and by the way, I just wanted to check in—I know we were talking about having Wes over for dinner, and I was thinking next Thursday. Would that work with you?"

At the mention of Wes's name, Kevin's stomach began to churn faster and faint panic flooded through him, but he refused to let it show.

"Fine with me," he managed. "Well, I'm heading upstairs."

After giving his father a tight hug, Kevin began trudging up the stairs, a plan already forming in his mind. He would maintain the fib about feeling sick until tomorrow morning in order to have his father call the school and let them know he would be out. And then he would go and see FP.

* * *

"Hey, Dad?"

FP looked up from where he was mending a tear on the inside of his Serpent jacket at the small kitchen table. "Yeah, Jug?"

Jughead took a seat opposite him. "You mentioned Deputy Wes Ashton yesterday. I was wondering if you knew something more about him."

Instantly alert, FP immediately set down the jacket, adrenaline rushing through him as his protective instincts kicked in. "Why?" he demanded. Jughead stared, startled at the sharpness of his voice, but FP refused to back down. "Whyddya wanna know?"

Jughead looked at him with a faint frown on his features. "Is it important about why? I mean, I'm just curious. The same as you were curious about why he was hanging around Kevin," he added challengingly.

Jughead was right. Once FP had found Ashton prowling around Keller's kid last night, he'd gotten the kid out of there and then demanded answers from Jughead about it when he'd come home later that night. Jughead had sworn he knew nothing about why Ashton would have anything to do with the kid beyond the two of them both knowing the sheriff.

Now, FP snorted. Jughead might a good lawyer someday: not only was he able to successfully avoid other people's questions, but he was able to twist them back at whoever was asking and make them look like they were the one who should be answering in the first place.

Any amusement abruptly faded, however, when FP realized that he still didn't have the reassurance he wanted. "Jughead, you tell me what I wanna know, and you tell me, now . Has Ashton talked to you at all? Asked you anything?"

"I've never talked to him in my life," Jughead replied frankly. "And he's never talked to me."

FP felt some of the tension drain out of his shoulders. "Good," he muttered, half to himself.

"I'm guessing he's a sore subject with you, huh?" Jughead looked at SP squarely. "I mean, this is the second time in two days you've gone off at at me at just the idea of him. Why?"

FP wasn't playing along with whatever detective game Jughead was trying to run. "'Cuz he causes all kinds of trouble for the Serpents, that's why. He has some kind of grudge to settle with us, and any one of us could be his next target." He looked meaningfully at Jughead. "All the more reason why you should be avoiding him."

But Jughead was not easily deterred. "What kind of man do you think Ashton is?"

Exasperated, FP rolled his eyes. "Look, I've just told you he acts like a total prick towards us. When I have to put up with that from him, I really don't give a damn about what kind of person he is otherwise."

"D'you think Ashton would be above blackmailing someone?" Jughead persisted. "If he had the chance?"

FP paused, a suspicion forming in his mind, and then he whirled on Jughead. "You know something," he guessed shrewdly. "Something about what Ashton wanted with your friend, that Keller kid."

"I have some ideas," Jughead admitted. "But that's not the same as knowing anything, really. But do you? Do you know anything about what Ashton wanted from Kevin the other day?"

FP had some ideas, too, none of them pleasant but also no solid proof to support even a single one of them. There had been rumors about Wes Ashton on the Southside ever since he came to Riverdale, rumors that part of the reason he was so interested in arresting Serpents was to get favors out of the younger ones—sex, mainly, it seemed. But as many rumors as there had been, FP had never met anyone who'd been accosted by Ashton. He'd worked his damnedest to find out, unwilling to let some lowlife SOB terrorize the younger members of his gang, police connections or not. But it didn't seem like anyone was willing to take the risk of coming forward, either because of Ashton threatening them, fear of making further trouble for themselves, or their own reasons.

Whatever had happened between Ashton and those younger Serpents—and FP had no doubt that something had happened—it was remaining unspoken. And Ashton was getting away with it. For now.

But even with what he suspected, he'd never thought that Ashton would be willing to try anything on any Northside kids—FP had always assumed that the reason Ashton was going after Serpents was because they were easy to leverage, easy to force them into giving him what he what or else face the threat of arrest and time in juvie. Trying the same tactic on a Northside kid with concerned parents and fancy lawyers would be a stupid risk, and even utter scum like Ashton would know that. True, FP had been wondering after seeing Ashton with the Keller kid if there could be anything happening between them, but he eventually dismissed the thought—what kind of idiot would be putting the moves on the sheriff's underage son?

But now that Jughead was asking all of these questions, FP wasn't so sure. The look on the Keller kid's face as Ashton had been approaching him flashed through his mind again, the expression of obvious dread burned into his memory. At the time, FP had assumed it was just Ashton was being an asshole as usual and been determined to put an end to it when he saw it, if only just to fuck with doubt about that first impression refused to give him any peace right now.

"All I know is that to call Ashton a low-down snake in the grass would be any insult to snakes," FP eventually told him, rising to his feet. He gave Jughead a brief, one-armed hug before leaving the table. "Stay away from Wes Ashton, Jug. He's never brought the Serpents anything but grief."

His thoughts tumbled around his mind as he went out to work on his bike before it got too dark. Could it be that Ashton had gotten his hands on the Keller kid? Was Jughead's hunch about the blackmail right, with Ashton using it to push the kid into being with him?

FP had nothing but hunches, but a sickish twisting in the bottom of his stomach told him that his instincts would likely prove correct and that the matter was far over.

* * *

FP's suspicions were proven correct the next day when he was roused by the sound of someone knocking on the door of the trailer. A glance at the trout-themed clock on the wall, with a different fish in place of each number, told him that it was just past half-eight, and he was still blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes when he swung open the door.

He found that Keller kid standing there, clutching a container of sticky buns like it was the Ark of the Covenant and looking for all the world like he didn't want to be there.

For a moment, FP simply stood and stared at him, until the kid—Kevin, that was what Jughead had called him—awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Hi," he said uncertainly. "Um, I'm sorry to intrude, but . . ." he trailed off, seeming hesitant, but then blurted out, "I need to talk to you." Thrusting forth the package of sticky buns, he looked at FP pleadingly, dark circles ringing his eyes and his face drawn. "Please."

"Er . . ." FP was still trying to clear the sleep from his head, but he automatically accepted the sticky buns, his stomach rumbling as he glanced at them. If someone was willing to give him food right now, he didn't have too many objections about letting them into his house. "Yeah, okay." He backed up from the door, gesturing Kevin inside. "Come on in."

FP led him over to the table, noting something that hadn't occurred to him when he'd seen the kid two days earlier: he looked much thinner and frailer than memory served, as if he'd been very ill very recently.

Setting the sticky buns down on the counter, FP grabbed a clean plate from the drying rack. "D'ya want one?" he asked, gesturing toward the pastries.

Kevin shook his head, and FP glanced over at the fridge that he knew was mostly empty. He wished he had something to offer this kid, even if he had shown up uninvited. A surge of self-conscious, one that had never quite faded despite all the years FP had lived on the Southside, ran through him, knowing how the tumble-down trailer must look in the eyes of a Northsider who came from a fancy house in the town's nicest neighborhood.

Water would have to work, though, since that was all they had, and FP poured a glass for Kevin and glass for himself after he popped the sticky bun in the microwave for a few seconds.

"So," FP said, plunking down across from Kevin and beginning to wolf down his pastry. "Something I can do for you?"

Kevin looked down at his hands. "I wanted to thank you for the other day. For getting me away from Wes."

FP shrugged and swallowed his bite of sticky bun. "I hate that bastard. Wasn't going to let him do whatever he wanted, not while on my turf."

Kevin nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah. I . . ." he seemed to be gathering his confidence. "There's something I need to tell you about Wes. I mean—I think you're the only person I can tell."

FP eyed him curiously, a swell of the sick feeling returning, but he just took a swig of water, not moving his eyes from Kevin. "Yeah?"

"He's been threatening me," Kevin said quietly. "And my dad and Jughead, too."

FP's fork went screeching across his plate, and he dropped it with a clatter. "What?" he barked, ferocity coursing through him at the idea of his son being in danger, especially because of a scumbag like Ashton.

"He—he—" Kevin seemed to be struggling to speak, his breathing coming hard and fast, and FP would have stared at him even if he hadn't been intent on getting answer. "Wes has been—he's forcing me into having sex with him," he rushed out. "And you're the first person I've ever told because he keeps threatening to hurt Jughead or kill my dad and frame the Serpents for it if I tell anyone anything."

FP pushed his plate aside, any thought of breakfast leaving his mind. "You need to tell me everything," he ordered Kevin, urgency pounding through his veins. "Tell me now."

The entire sordid story poured out, as if Kevin had been aching to tell someone: Ashton bringing him home to get him drunk and trying to put the moves on him, Ashton being a coward and refusing to face up to what he did and instead threatening Jughead, Ashton lurking around his house like some type of stalker and then making the kid go down on him, Ashton getting even more pull over the Serpents by being stationed at the high school, Ashton's threats to start using Toni instead of Kevin, and finally, Ashton managing to get his way and drag Kevin into bed with him.

"And I don't mean to make this your problem," Kevin told him hoarsely. "I really, really don't. I know none of this is your responsibility. But everyone respects Wes and you're really the only person I know who doesn't, so I didn't know who else to go to." For a moment, he buried his face in his hands, taking deep breaths, and when he lowered them again, his face was still distraught. "I just don't know what to do. I can't face him at school each day. I just can't. But if I tell my dad—"

"You probably should tell him," FP said honestly, still struggling to absorb everything Kevin had divulged.

"I know, I know," Kevin said, the pain tangible in his voice. "But if Wes isn't bluffing—if he means what he says about my dad and Jughead—I can't be responsible for him deciding to take his anger at me out on them." A more determined note entered his voice. "I won't be."

"You won't have to be." The words were out of FP's mouth before he considered them, and Kevin looked at him in surprise, but also with a faint expression of hope.

And it was the hope in his eyes that sealed FP's decision. True, this Keller kid was from the Northside, the son of a man he mostly resented, and FP had no obligation to help him. But Kevin was a friend of Jughead's—FP had seen Jughead frantically tapped away at his laptop this past summer to respond to all of the emails Kevin had sent him. Then there was Kevin helping out the Southside kids at school instead of stirring up trouble for them like some of those other Northside brats were. And as a father himself, FP couldn't stand by and watch a kid his own son's age be put through this kind of hell, let a monster like Ashton sink his claws into his any further.

Plus, he had a common interest with Kevin: getting rid of Ashton wouldn't just protect Kevin, it would protect all of the Serpents. It would be justice against all of the crimes Ashton had committed against them, and it would probably be the only justice any of them would ever get from him.

FP had been delaying acting against Ashton, reasoning it was too risky to go after one of the sheriff's own blue-eyed boys, that it would just bring down the town's wrath on them harder than ever.

But now, knowing that his son and Toni were being threatened, knowing the kids in his gang were in more danger from Ashton than ever before, and that the sheriff's son had personally come to him for help—now he had all the justification in the world to give Ashton exactly what he deserved.

Ashton's control over the young Serpents and Kevin was over. He would not continue with any of it. FP would make that certain.

So he stood up from the table with a conclusive nod. "You leave Ashton to me. Trust me, you won't be seeing him at your school."

Kevin glanced at him warily, and there was a pause, but then he also rose from the table with a look of relief. "Thank God. I want it to end here."

"It will," FP promised. "Just one more thing: what's his address?"

"Fifteen Worthington Avenue, here in Riverdale," Kevin told him, not hesitating for a second.

"Good man," FP praised him, reaching out and giving Kevin's shoulder a squeeze.

He did it reflexively, not consciously considering how Kevin would react, and as Kevin froze at the contact, FP did as well, suddenly flooded with doubt. But then Kevin recovered and moved forward, clamping his arms around his shoulders in a tight grip. It was less like a hug and more like how a drowning man would clutch his rescuer. Even if FP didn't think of himself as the comforting type, he knew he'd effectively just pulled Kevin out of the rapids, and he found himself returning the embrace even though he would not have initiated it. He just let Kevin hold onto him as long as he needed and didn't hesitate to look him in the eyes when they eventually broke apart.

"You go home," FP told him, trying his best to make his voice gentle. "You go home, and you leave Ashton to me."

Kevin nodded, turning toward the door, but stopped for a moment before he left. "About my dad . . ."

"I'm not going to say anything to him before you do," FP told him seriously. "But you should tell him."

Kevin nodded silently before giving FP a faint smile. "Thank you. I know I haven't done anything to earn it. But if there's anything I can do for you . . ."

FP shook his head. "I don't think this is really something you have to earn. But do me a favor and keep looking out for Jughead and the other Southsiders at your school."

"I will," Kevin said firmly, and then took his leave.

FP watched him make his way back to his truck before rifling for his phone and then dialling his second-in-command. "Tall Boy, it's me. I need you and War Baby to get our most trusted members together for a mission." Determination flooded through him. "We have a score to settle."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

The final confrontation with Wes looms closer! I'm still deciding who should be involved. Moose? Sheriff Keller? FP and the older Serpents? The younger Serpents? Jughead and Veronica? The gray cat? Someone else? Be sure to let me know who you want to see take down Wes once and for all.


	9. Chapter 9

A strange feeling enveloped Kevin as he drove home from the trailer park and then walked back into his house. It persisted as he brought out fresh food and water for the gray cat and then as he sat on the porch swing to think, the cat curled up in his lap and his phone turned off so he wouldn't have to deal with real life's intrusions for a little while.

It was almost like happiness, but not quite, still buoyant but just not an actual sense of joy. Instead, it was relief, Kevin realized, the cat purring as he gently stroked from her head down to the middle of her spine. Enormous, overwhelming relief that he finally had an escape from Wes after spending months dreading the sight of him and worrying about what he had planned next. Saying that a burden had been lifted from his shoulders was an understatement—no, Kevin felt like he'd been a bird who'd had his wings chained closed for weeks but now someone had released him, and he was free, free to fly away into the sky and leave his imprisonment behind.

"I just . . . feel good," he said out loud, only the cat to hear him. "I feel better. A helluva lot better."

In response, the cat raised her head and nuzzled up against his arm, her soft fur tickling the inside of his elbow.

Looking out over the lawn and over at the long road that led away from their lone house and back to the regular neighborhood, it occured to Kevin that he had his life back. No more Wes looming over every one of his thoughts and actions, no more paranoia that he might turn up anywhere Kevin went in Riverdale.

He could begin to move on.

And Kevin was ready to do just that.

Feeling the urge to wander even in spite of the overwhelming heat that was barely tolerable even in the shade, he gently lifted the cat out of his lap and set her down on the other side of the swing so she could still rest comfortably. But as he stepped down off of the porch and began to walk to the backyard, she leapt off the cushion so she could follow him as if she were just an extension of his shadow, and he tossed a fond smile her way as she merrily trotted after him.

Since the Keller house was on the very edge of the neighborhood and set far apart from any of the nearby homes, the backyard was both extensive and very private. Opening up onto a large, grassy field riddled with towering trees, it eventually gave way to a wooded area that had a wide, shallow stream running through a gulley beneath a weathered stone footbridge. The backyard's location combined with the forest guaranteed it couldn't be viewed from either the street or any other house in the neighboring area, rendering something of an escape from the rest of the world.

It had been a wonderful place to grow up; Kevin could recall spending countless hours playing there by the creek with Betty, Archie, and Jughead when they were children, either catching frogs on the sandy banks of the stream or racing sticks in the water's current.

Bittersweet nostalgia flooded through Kevin at the memories: those carefree days of playing with his friends were over. He would never be able to bring them back.

But he could still try to keep those friendships going, he reminded himself, so unaccustomed to his newfound sense of optimism he had almost forgotten it. With Wes not a concern anymore, he could repair or regrow his friendships. Do whatever needed to be done. He could build a new life for himself—hell, without having to worry about Wes, it already felt like a new life.

A sliver of doubt ran through Kevin, a shadow lingering in the back of his mind. What if he did still have to worry about Wes? What if whatever FP was planning didn't end up working? Hell, what if FP changed his mind?

No, he told himself firmly. He had to believe this nightmare with Wes was over. He had to believe that FP would help him.

Forcing the doubts out of his mind, Kevin scanned the area around the creek, trying to distract himself. Though the ongoing heat and humidity with no respite and little rainfall had dessicated the stream's flow to a barely a trickle, the bridge still looked very picturesque, and there were several weeping willows nearby that he'd thought might look nice in photographs.

Bringing up his camera on his phone, he took several brief photos of the area just to check on the lighting, even though he knew the position of the sun was likely to be different on the evening of the back-to-school dance in comparison to mid-afternoon that it was now. Nevertheless, he was gratified to see the photos turned out well, without seeming either too dark due to the surrounding foliage or overexposed thanks to the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the tree leaves. The bridge would actually be an ideal spot to take pictures prior to their night out, he realized with a surge of excitement at the idea, and it wasn't that far of a walk from the house. He idly wondered if Moose would like the spot.

The dance . . . Kevin's pulse picked up as he realized he hadn't made any kind of preparations for Saturday, and it was already Wednesday. And he wasn't sure if his suit would fit anymore—he'd gotten taller over the summer and much thinner than he'd been previously. And if he needed new clothes, he only had a few days to get to the mall over in Greendale.

Spurred on by that thought, he hastened back to the house, climbing up onto the extensive back deck and then letting himself in through the rear door. The gray cat followed him to that point, but then opted to leap up onto the patio table and roll over to bask in the sunlight.

With a sigh of relief, he entered the air-conditioned house, leaving again a moment or two later to put out a fresh bowl of cold water beside the cat for her to drink. Then he mounted the stairs, making his way into his room.

Rummaging in his closet, Kevin extracted a dress shirt and the black suit that he'd purchased last December—especially for Mayor McCoy's annual Christmas party, he recalled, his heart twisting a bit at the memory of the happier time. But he insistently pushed the melancholy away as he slipped out of his shirt and jeans, wincing at the strain it put on his injuries from Wes, trying to convince himself he could shed the negativity just as easily as he was shedding his clothing, that he would be able to create good memories again.

Pulling on the dress shirt and quickly buttoning it, Kevin tucked its tails into the suit trousers and then secured his belt before stepping in front of the mirror and surveying his reflection critically. Even though he'd grown taller, the suit had been bought long, so the trouser legs were just about the right length now. And while neither they nor the dress shirt were the best fit, not sized for his now significantly thinner and and more defined body, they were at least passable.

The jacket was a different story. The shoulders fit well enough, but they were about the only part that did; now noticeably baggy, the material hung loosely around his torso in a distinctly unflattering way.

Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair and shrugging off the jacket. "I look like a kid playing dress-up from his dad's closet."

The words were barely out of his mouth when there was a faint knock on his door and the quiet call of his father's voice. "Kev? You awake?"

Startled, Kevin's heart jumped in his chest, and he quickly checked his arms and torso despite his shirt covering them, unable to push away paranoia that his father would see the smattering of bruises Wes had left him with. Trying to calm his racing pulse, Kevin reminded himself that none of them were visible at the moment, and was careful to keep his voice steady as he responded, "Yeah, come on in."

His bedroom door open to reveal Tom with a faintly worried expression, though that shifted to relief when he saw Kevin.

"Thought you'd be lying down. Guess you're feeling better, then?" he asked with a small smile.

Kevin's pulse quickened at the question, wondering if he should follow FP's advice and tell his father what had happened. But instead he just found himself nodding and giving the expected response. "Much better, thanks." He gestured to himself. "Even well enough to try on formal wear."

"I was going to ask about the occasion," Tom replied amiably.

Suddenly, Kevin realized that while mired in keeping secrets from his father, he'd never actually told him about the back-to-school dance with Moose. He couldn't believe it had slipped his mind, and now he rushed to explain.

"I was asked out to the dance this weekend by Moose Mason, a football player," he told his father, unable to curb the excitement in his voice. "We're double-dating with Josie McCoy and Reggie Mantle—as long as you're okay with it, that is," he added hastily, with a touch of worry if he'd be allowed to go.

But he needn't have been concerned. Tom's smile grew bigger and he walked over to lay a hand on Kevin's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm glad," he said sincerely. "I hope you have a good time with your friends. And Josie is such a nice girl. Hopefully she'll reign that Reggie Mantle in a bit. But I do want to meet this young man of yours before the dance," he added, putting a protective arm around Kevin's shoulders and drawing him close.

"Can do," Kevin said, happiness rushing through him. "Of course," he remarked ruefully, glancing at the suit jacket that sat in a lump on the bed where he'd discarded it, "at this rate, I might not be able to go. It doesn't fit right anymore," he explained to his father.

"Hmm." A speculative look crossed Tom's features. "Wait here for just a moment. I think I might have something you could use."

He left the room but returned a moment or two later with a hanger that held a handsome dress vest and matching tie. Each piece was made from a pale gold material that shone slightly when the light caught it, and metallic champagne-colored thread formed intricately embroidered vines that swirled their way up and down both garments.

"I wore these for my wedding to your mom," Tom said, running the tail of the tie between his fingers. "They've been sitting in the back of my closet ever since. Can't see myself wearing them again, but I think you might do them justice." He handed the hanger to Kevin. "Go ahead, try them on."

In all honesty, Kevin had severe doubts about that color looking even remotely decent—glimmering gold, even the low-key kind that the vest was, was never a color he would have picked for himself. Nevertheless, he appreciated that his father wanted to pass the items along to him.

"Thanks," Kevin said, smiling at his father as he set the hanger aside and then carefully reached one arm and then the other through the vest. He looped the tie into a neat Windsor knot before smoothing it down and buttoning the vest up over it and then turned to check his reflection, expecting the worst.

Yet to his surprise, he didn't even look half bad. He looked good, even. Even in spite of the drawness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes, the color seemed to catch the glow of his skin and highlight it somehow, presenting a nice contrast with his dark hair. And because of the muted shade, the gold material wasn't overly showy and didn't look tacky. Instead, it looked fine, maybe even classy. And it didn't hurt that the vest's cut showed off the lean muscles in his shoulders and arms. While the fit wasn't perfect—it was slightly too big—his father helped him adjust the strap in the back to make it tighter against his frame.

Tom clapped him on the shoulder as Kevin took in his reflection, smiling proudly at his son. "Look at that. Almost like it was made for you."

"It does look good, doesn't it?" Kevin asked in part wonder. He turned to Tom. "Are you sure you're okay with me wearing it?"

"Absolutely," Tom said firmly. He gave Kevin's shoulder another squeeze, his gaze going soft. "You look very handsome, sweetheart. And you should have something special to wear on your big night. I'm glad you're going to go out and have fun." He hesitated. "I've been meaning to ask, Kev: is everything okay? I don't want to pry, but you've seemed so withdrawn ever since you came home." Worry was clear in his eyes. "Are you doing all right? Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Nervousness began churning in Kevin's stomach at the question, and he found himself pretending to adjust his tie so he wouldn't be expected to look his father in the eyes. But FP's advice echoed in his mind as clearly as if the man had been standing in the room with them: You should tell him.

But Kevin didn't want that, not right now. He didn't want to confess, didn't want to feel ashamed, didn't want his father to be burdened with the knowledge that one of his own deputies had raped his son. Kevin just wanted to be happy, just for a little while. Wes had already ruined months of his life; he didn't want him to mar this special moment between himself and his dad.

So he did his best to give his dad a reassuring smile and pulled him into a hug. "Just stress from school starting again, Dad. But everything's going to be fine. You'll see."

And yet, as Kevin stood there, warm and safe in his father's embrace, he couldn't shake the distinct feeling that he'd just jinxed himself.

* * *

Pushing his way through the crowded school hall, Jughead spotted Veronica at her locker and made a beeline toward her. He'd been trying to find a way to talk to her in private all day, but between Archie and Betty, they'd never managed to grab a private moment together.

"Hey," he said, striding up just as she finished gathering her books for the day. "You heard anything from Kevin yet?"

Veronica shook her head, a worried frown creasing her forehead. "Nothing whatsoever. I texted him twice—a standard invitation to hang out and then an unimposing follow-up, but I haven't heard anything back."

"Yeah, same," Jughead told her, concern coiling within him as well. "It's weird, too, because this past summer, Kevin was all about keeping in contact. I'd send him an email or text, and no matter what the time, he'd respond to them. Even if it were, like, midnight. So him suddenly not replying to anything I send him? That's totally uncharacteristic."

Veronica chewed her lip. "It's almost like he can't get to his phone. You don't think—"

She broke off in the middle of her sentence, her gaze landing somewhere behind Jughead and then gradually tracking toward him from there.

"What is it?" Jughead asked, beginning to turn around, but Veronica's hand shot out to grab his shoulder and stop him.

"Don't!" she hissed. "It's Deputy Ashton."

Jughead grimaced. Today Weatherbee had announced that Ashton would be stationed at their school full-time, no doubt giving him better access to antagonizing the Southside students. Furthermore, Jughead knew that his father would hit the roof when he found out Wes was at the school.

For a moment, they stood perfectly still, as if they were gazelles hoping a nearby lion wouldn't notice them, waiting as Ashton moved past them. Only once he crossed Jughead's line of vision and was moving away with his back toward them did they resume their conversation.

"My dad had some distinctly unflattering things to say about Ashton," Jughead told her in a low tone. "And he really seemed upset by me bringing him up. Definitely some bad blood between him and the Serpents, and—"

He broke off abruptly as Betty joined them, glancing at her warily, wondering precisely what she'd overheard. Veronica did the same, studying Betty.

"Hey," Betty said, casting a questioning glance back and forth between them, clearly curious about what they'd been discussing. "How's it going?"

"All right," Veronica said, recovering quickly. "Jughead and I were actually just exchanging opinions on cinema—I prefer classic noir, but Jughead believes that the neo-noir era was a vast improvement to the overall detective genre."

Betty glanced at Jughead uncertainly.

He did his best to give a casual shrug. "What can I say? It added some real grit and grime but without being cynical or shallow about the story. Say what you will about it being dark or grim, but there's a level of earnestness to it that just doesn't exist in films today."

The words slipped out of his mouth easily enough, but he felt his face burn with discomfort when he spoke them. He didn't like not being honest with Betty, but he still wasn't sure exactly what was taking place with Kevin and Ashton. He didn't want to complicate the problem or put Betty at risk or Kevin at further risk by running his mouth when he didn't know what was really happening. And his dad had seemed pissed that he'd even mentioned Ashton's name and adamantly opposed to Jughead ever even speaking to him. With those clues adding up, Jughead couldn't help a creeping suspicion about why his father loathed the man like he did.

One of Betty's eyebrows twitched as his response, but she gave a nod. "Right," she said, and Jughead took some heart in that her tone remained neutral.

Veronica was monitoring Betty's response as well; a less attentive person might not have noticed how her eyes momentarily scanned Betty's face, but Jughead did. Evidently satisfied with what she'd seen, Veronica shut her locked and offered Betty a smile.

"Ready for practice?" she asked, hefting her River Vixens sports bag.

Betty shook her head. "You go on. Jug and I are going to have a moment alone."

Dismay instantly flooded through Jughead at the remark, and he had no doubt that Veronica was perceptive enough to register its true meaning as well, but she didn't let it show on her face.

"All right," she said with a carefree smile. "See you at the gym, then." She gave a wave goodbye, sending Jughead a meaningful glance before departing.

Betty waved in return, waiting for Veronica to vanish into the sea of students before turning to Jughead.

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath. "I don't know for sure what you two were talking about, but I can tell it wasn't cinema or anything like that. I've noticed you two looking at each other all day."

"Betty—" Jughead began, but she held up a hand.

"Listen, I'm not doing this to be nosy or possessive or a jealous girlfriend. I trust you, and I trust her. But . . ." she seemed to struggle with herself for a moment. "I wanted to ask: does whatever you guys are talking about have anything to do with Kevin?"

Jughead had been preparing to deny an interest in Veronica and reassure Betty that she was his one and only; her astute guess as to his and Veronica's common interest left him gobsmacked.

"Well, you're one of hell of a detective yourself," he mused, tossing her a grin. "How'd you figure that out?"

Betty didn't return the smile. "I happened to look at your phone over the summer when you left your texts up," she confessed. "I didn't mean to, but I saw all of your texts with Kevin. I thought it was really weird—I'm his best friend, and he was barely texting me. And he's been so distanct and out of it since he got back from his grandparents. I'm worried. So when I saw how you and Veronica reacted when I said Kevin wasn't at school today . . . well, I thought that the two of you might know something." She looked at Jughead imploringly. " Do you know something?"

"I—" Jughead was at war with himself. He wanted to tell the truth to Betty, but he wasn't sure what they were dealing with regarding Ashton and Kevin—hell, a part of him was still holding out hope that they weren't actually dealing with anything, that Ashton was just a bullying prick and nothing more sinister than that.

He weighed his options. If Ashton was the kind of creep Jughead thought his father had been alluding to, any kid at school could be in danger from him, especially now that he was leading the school security team. It made sense to tell Betty. But then again, if that sort of thing was between Ashton and Kevin, it wasn't Jughead's place to go blabbing to anyone else about it.

"I can't really say," he replied finally. Betty opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. "And trust me, I know how lame that is. I don't mean to shut you out from anything. But there are some things Veronica and I are trying to figure out right now, and we don't have the answers we need."

Betty hesitated for a moment before speaking, starting several times before actually giving a full response. "I can handle that," she said slowly. "For right now, at least. But sooner or later, Jug . . . look, Kevin is my best friend. If something's going on, I want to help."

"I want to help him, too," Jughead confessed. "That's part of the reason why Veronica and I have been so secretive. And I don't mean to be. I just can't help that it is right now, and—"

He was abruptly cut off by "Mr. Brightside" suddenly blaring from his phone. Reflexively slipping it out of his pocket and glancing at the screen, he was surprised to see that the caller was his father.

"I gotta take this," he said apologetically to Betty.

"And I have to get to practice." She sighed and leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you. And I just—" she squeezed his hand. "I just want everyone to be okay." She spoke the last words so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

"Hey." Jughead kissed her back just before she left. "We will be. I promise." He watched her go for a moment before answering his phone. "Hey, Dad. What's up?"

"I need you to stay away from the trailer for most of tonight," FP told him without preamble. "You, Toni, Fangs, Sweet Pea, and Joaquin—I need all of you to stay at Pop's or some place else at least until midnight. I'll be giving Toni money so all of you can eat, but you have to stay in sight. Make sure you're seen by other people, or if you go some place else, make sure there are security cameras there to see you. Okay?"

Jughead could feel his eyebrows rising quizzically. "Yeah, sure. But why . . .?"

"It's important," FP said flatly. "So just do it." His voice softened slightly. "They'll look out for you, all right? I just want to keep you safe."

"Okay." Jughead had the distinct impression that he was being left in the dark where some critical information was concerned, which annoyed him. If there was anything he hated, it was being treated like some dumb little kid who was too immature to understand the adults.

But considering that he hadn't been honest with Betty, he supposed he didn't have too much room to throw stones. So he just settled for, "I got it, Dad."

"Good. Keep safe, Jug." The call abruptly ended.

Lowering his phone, Jughead stared at the screen for a moment, a vague feeling of foreboding overcoming him. "You, too," he said softly, even though the call had already disconnected.

* * *

The moment she walked into her room, Betty made a beeline for her bed and collapsed facedown onto the mattress with a tired groan. Cheryl was a legitimate drill sergeant when it came to the River Vixens, and Betty's muscles were left weary and aching after every practice. But it was worth it, if only to stick it to Cheryl and prove that she deserved her spot on the squad.

Right. The squad.

Despite the twinge in her muscles, Betty pushed herself up off the bed and grabbed her backpack, removing the color-coded folder she'd designated for everything and anything related to the River Vixens. Leafing through it, she passed over the practice and game schedule, the list of totalitarian rules created and enforced by Cheryl, and a photocopy of her signed permission slip that she was keeping on hand just in case her mother changed her mind and tried to withdraw her from the squad. Instead, Betty carefully extracted a flyer advertising the tryouts that she'd passed. For a moment she just sat, running her fingers over the printed letters, and then she stood and walked over to her closet to bring her memory box down from the shelf.

Her memory box was a small, polished oak chest with a swing lock closure, the front lid intricately carved with a scene of birds in flight over a garden. Betty had purchased it at a rummage sale for ten dollars when she was eight years old, and since then she'd used it to store items linked to events she wanted to be sure she would always remember.

Now, Betty carefully folded the paper so that the River Vixens logo was easily visible on the outside and set it amongst the other keepsakes, nestling it between the miniature of a lighthouse she and Polly had once spent most of their Cape Cod vacation exploring, thoroughly convinced it was haunted, and a small plastic jar that contained the remnants of a pink rose corsage Kevin had given her for their first high school dance, almost a year ago to the day.

But the corsage wasn't the only item there that involved Kevin. There was a playbill from their middle school's production of Annie —she'd tried out for the titular lead but then gotten stuck working the lights, and then Kevin had signed on to to help specifically so she wouldn't feel lonely. Also in the box was a gorgeous purple river stone with a single pale gray stripe that she'd found in the creek bed in the Kellers' backyard during one summer in elementary school when the water had vanished during a drought.

They'd spent hours playing over at Kevin's house, Betty recalled, lifting up the stone and rubbing her thumb along the glossy surface that had been smoothed by years of the stream's current running across it. It had always been an adventure to be there and play in the stream or in the woods, and she'd always been welcomed by both Kevin and his father. Archie and Jughead had spent large amounts of time at Kevin's house as well, but Betty had been a fixture of the household, a regular piece of the furniture, especially during the summer.

This past summer she hadn't spent any time there, though. This past summer, Kevin had always been gone, and she'd barely had contact with him. Instead, he'd been talking to Jughead, and it seemed like both of them had not only somehow managed to land themselves in trouble, but also dragged Veronica into it as well.

Something was up with her friends, and it was up to Betty to figure out what.

Plunking the stone back into the box, Betty gently closed the lid and stood on her tiptoes to place it back onto its shelf in the closet. Then she reached for her phone to text Kevin.

* * *

At nearly eleven o'clock at night, the Whyte Wyrm was uncommonly deserted and quiet. But while it may have been unusual, FP appreciated the tomb-like silence: it meant the Serpents were getting business done with.

Draining his whiskey, FP set his tumbler down on the bar. Hog Eye, the bartender, made a motion to get him a refill, but FP held up a hand.

"No thanks," he said. "Need to be able to think on my feet if the sheriff gets here." He glanced over toward the front of the room, where one of the Serpents stood vigilant, watching out the window, as they would until their guest was no longer in the basement. "Anything yet, Cain?"

"We're in luck," Cain called. "No one's noticed so far that Ashton is missing."

"They won't for a few days yet," Birdie reassured them, appearing from one of the back rooms with a baseball bat in hand. "I sent an email from Ashton's computer while we were at the house. Told the sheriff that a family emergency sprung up and he needed to be away for a few days."

"I'd like more than a few days," FP growled, rage surging through his veins at the thought of everything Ashton had done to the Southside, to their children.

"Wouldn't we all," Birdie returned, a hard edge in her voice as she hefted her bat and looked toward the cellar door.

As if compelled by her gaze, the cellar door swung open and Tall Boy emerged, his knuckles torn and battered but smirk of savage satisfaction on his face.

"Your turn, Birdie," he said and held the door for her as she strode to the stairs, twirling her bat like a baton, her features morphing into a mask of anger and contempt as she began her descent.

Once she'd gone, Tall Boy let the heavy door slam shut after her and joined FP at the bar.

"How was it?" FP asked idly.

"Good enough for War Baby to stay down there for round two," Tall Boy returned, giving a grateful nod when Hog Eye placed one of his namesake beers before him. He cast a glance around the room before lifting the can to his lips for a long pull. "All of the kids stay away, then?"

"Yep. Looks like Jug listened to me for once and kept the others at Pop's." FP scowled. "When he asked about Ashton . . . when I think about what he might have gotten himself into with that motherfucker . . ."

Tall Boy scoffed. "Childfucker is more like it."

"True." FP shot a venomous look at the cellar door. "I should be down there."

"Ya need to keep your nose clean in case the sheriff comes sniffin' around," Tall Boy reminded him. "The Serpents need a leader, now more than ever. Can't have that if you're dragged off in cuffs."

FP's mind flashed briefly to the anguish on Kevin's face as he'd told him of everything Ashton had done with him; he hadn't told anyone else about Kevin, saying only that he'd discovered for sure that Ashton had been abusing Southside kids. "I wouldn't worry too much about that. I have an ace up my sleeve if the sheriff ever gets too close. He'll understand."

"Hmph." Tall Boy's expression was understandably skeptical, but he didn't push the issue. "Have you thought about what we're gonna do with Ashton once we're through with him?"

FP glanced at the door again, momentarily considering his options. "We have a while to go yet," he remarked. "The water is always a good place to hide any evidence, and Sweetwater River always freezes solid by the end of October." Reconsidering, he raised his tumbler for Hog Eye to fill his glass again. "Winters always have a way of coming early to Riverdale."

* * *

 **Notes:**

Sorry for the long wait! Before I knew it, ten weeks had passed without an update.

A lot needed to happen in this chapter to set up later events, but I hope it didn't seem to scattered. I wanted to give Kevin a break from chronic angst and also give him a nice moment with his dad, and I also wanted to begin sewing the seeds of Betty's suspicions and eventual reunion with Kevin.

No Moose in this chapter, but next chapter will see some bonding between him and Kevin. I also think I'm going to have Kevin try to make amends with the teen Serpents. Be sure to let me know if there's a character you want to see show up or have a particular moment with Kevin!

As a final note, I do actually really like Tall Boy, and I was upset by how he was treated in canon. He's a good guy here and a loyal Serpent to FP.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:**

Just for reference, Cain is the name I gave to the unnamed Serpent who was hanging out with Tall Boy for the first two episodes of Season Two. He's a little bit older in this fic and out of high school. He has a wiki page under the name of "Young Serpent".

Severine is the name I gave to the unnamed Serpent girl who was sitting beside Joaquin at the drive-in in Episode 1.04. If you watch that scene closely, you can see that she takes some of Joaquin's popcorn.

* * *

After a long night of running shipments for Penny, the very last thing FP wanted to have to deal with was a squad of Serpents looking to him for leadership. Nevertheless, that was what he found when he stumbled through the door of the Whyte Wyrm and collapsed onto a barstool, his body weary and aching. Birdie, Cain, Tall Boy, and War Baby were assembled there as well, distinct tension hanging in the air between them.

"Something I can do for you people?" FP growled out, motioning for Hog Eye to give him a beer.

Cain was the first to speak. "It's Ashton."

"Yeah, about that." FP glanced around and found Severine standing by the window, keeping watch. She tossed him a wave; he waved back. "Who's guarding him if all of you are here?"

"Dollface and Ruger are keeping an eye on him," Tall Boy replied. He shot an irritated look at Cain. "We got this under control."

"Do we?" Cain retorted. He turned to FP. "Ashton tried to make a break for it earlier today. He made it halfway up the stairs before Birdie kicked him in the face on her way down."

"Thanks, Birdie," FP told her sincerely.

"Happy to oblige," she replied with a dark smile.

"Yes, yes, it's all well and good until next he tries to escape and actually makes it out," Cain informed them impatiently. "Imprisoning an officer of the law is a serious crime. So is assaulting one. We're all going down if he gets out."

"He's not gonna get out," Tall Boy argued. "We caught him this time, didn't we? We can catch him again."

"That's right," War Baby agreed.

"He's a liability," Cain countered. "I hate to cut this party short, but we need to cut him before all of this reaches full boil and fucks us over."

A headache was beginning to form at the base of FP's skull, and he found himself considering Cain's words moreso out of desperation to get a moment's peace than actual conviction. But Cain was right, he realized once he had the chance to think on it. Ashton was a risk to all of them where he was. The sooner they put an end to him, the better.

FP sighed. "What the hell. We were gonna waste him anyway, right? Let's do it tomorrow night. There's that big dance at the high school, so that'll keep all the cops busy. They'll be out on the lookout for drunk drivers, and they're getting extra security at the school because of the merge. Now that our kids go there, they don't trust us not to raise hell." A humorless smile tugged on his lips. "Little do they know we're actually going to be burying someone down in the swamps."

* * *

The football flew through the air, a magnificent pass thrown by Chuck, and Moose just barely managed to catch it hardly a second before crossing into the endzone. It was a successful touchdown, and Riverdale High's section of the bleachers roared its approval. All around Kevin, Riverdale fans leapt to their feet, stomping and clapping and cheering as Moose victoriously lifted up the ball for all to see.

Betty was getting into it as well, throwing her arms around Kevin in excitement as she bounced up and down in her seat. "We're only three points down, and there's two minutes left on the clock! We could win this!"

"We could," Kevin agreed with a smile, but while he was proud of Moose and eager for him to win, he was far more excited to have reunited with Betty and be spending the night with his friends. Things were getting back to normal, and he was immensely glad for it.

Taking comfort in Betty's enthusiastic embrace, Kevin put an arm around her shoulders in turn, leaning closer to her as he did. In doing so, he caught a hint of her perfume and was surprised by the fragrance. Instead of the standard vanilla body spray she normally wore (a low-effort gift she'd received from her parents for every birthday and Christmas that Kevin could remember), a dark, rich, and seductive aroma clung to her skin.

Tossing a grin in Jughead's direction where he sat on Betty's other side, Kevin raised an eyebrow at Betty. "New perfume?"

Betty laughed self-consciously and scooched closer to give Kevin a clandestine whisper. "Veronica gave it to me. It's Black Orchid by Tom Ford."

Rather than the rush of jealousy he'd come to expect whenever Betty or Veronica alluded to their friendship, Kevin just felt a swell of contentment. He gave Betty another squeeze and then turned to Veronica, who was sitting next to him as well.

"Good choice," he complimented her, ready and willing to be happy and let go of any insecurities if he had the slightest chance.

"Thank you," Veronica said warmly in return. Mischief sparkled in her dark eyes. "And if you like, I can see if I can find you a cologne that would entrance a certain football player." She glanced down at the field and then looked back at Kevin slyly. "One would that would drive Moose absolutely wild. "

"Well—" Kevin could feel his face heating at what Veronica was implying, but he was spared from answering when another roar swelled up from the crowd, the volume steadily rising as Moose dashed toward the end zone, his hands outstretched as Archie aimed a perfect spiral in his direction. Time seemed to slow down as the football soared across the field, its flight spanning yards, while Moose dodged around the Centerville defensive linemen to catch it in time.

At first Kevin didn't think he would make it; while the crowd's cheers urged Moose on, it simply didn't seem like Moose's speed was enough to get the catch. But then, with a final burst of momentum, he seemed to pluck the ball out of the sky just before he sprinted across the goal line, earning Riverdale High the final points of the game.

The crowd went berserk with shrieks and shouts of victory, their enthusiasm at Riverdale winning its first match of the season almost uncontainable. Even Jughead stood and obligingly clapped for a few seconds before slouching back into his seat.

Kevin stood and cheered as well, letting the crowd's happy frenzy wash over him, but as he did, he couldn't ignore a feeling of wrongness , that this moment in his life didn't actually belong there. Like there had been some mistake. Like he shouldn't be happy.

As much as Kevin tried to ignore the feeling, push it away so he could enjoy this time with his friends, it remained, pestering at him as he longed to just give in and share the crowd's energy and elation. Veronica turned to him, a jubilant smile on her face, obviously finding the crowd's glee infectious as well, but her smile faded as soon as she made eye contact and registered the expression on his face.

"Are you all right?" she asked quietly, her words barely audible over the raucous cheers.

"Fine," Kevin hurried to assured her, pasting a smile on his face.

But even nearly thirty minutes later, the uneasy feeling was still nagging at him. And he was finally able to place it as he said goodbye to Betty and Jughead and found himself accompanying Veronica to wait for the football team by Reggie's Chevrolet Chevelle in the emptying parking lot.

He felt like he didn't belong. These moments in his life, when he was just relaxing with his friends or happy and having fun, seemed like something from a movie, not something that was real. It felt like these events weren't actually happening actually to him, that he was just an imposter pretending, that he'd been given the wrong life by mistake.

When Wes had been around, he'd felt similarly, like he was trapped in a nightmare, like nothing could be real. Except it had been.

And now his situation had changed so quickly, going from nightmare to daydream, that there had been no chance to adjust. He'd gone from one extreme to the other, and his head was still spinning from the whiplash.

But if that was his greatest problem, Kevin tried to convince himself as Archie, Reggie, Moose, and Josie walked over to the two of them, then he really didn't have to worry about much at all. Nothing was actually stopping him from going back to a normal life, not now, not with Wes gone.

Nothing but himself.

As Kevin watched, Veronica threw herself in Archie's arms without the slightest bit of hesitation.

"You were magnificent ," she breathed, before pulling him into a kiss.

Archie looked momentarily taken aback but didn't hesitate to reciprocate, much to Reggie's disgust.

"PDA. How déclassé," he remarked with a roll of his eyes.

Kevin found himself willing to stick up for them. "Well, it was a spectacular game. You can't blame them for being proud and wanting to celebrate. I mean, you must know the feeling."

Reggie's chest puffed out. "True enough," he agreed readily.

"Careful, Kevin. You'll just end up inflating his ego even more," Josie remarked playfully. She glanced at Moose. "Hey, do all of you know the plan for tomorrow night?"

"Oh, I don't think Kevin's heard the full thing yet," Moose told her as he sidled up beside Kevin, tossing him a smile.

Kevin smiled at him in return, but as Moose stood next to him, he couldn't help but suddenly be very aware of their near proximity to each. He could smell the minty scent of Moose's shower gel and the fresh, clean scent that came from washing only a few moments ago. Maybe he was imagining it, but he thought he could feel the heat emanating from his body, and he knew that he was close enough that if he were to turn around, he could kiss Moose with little trouble.

And he realized, his face heating slightly with self-consciousness, that he was eager to try.

"Then I'd better fill you in." Josie pointed at Kevin. "The limo driver is coming to your house first. He's going to pick you up at five. But Moose is going to meet you at your house for pictures before that. Right, Moose?"

"That's the plan," Moose said, sending a fond look Kevin's way.

Kevin tried to play it cool, but he could feel his face heating further at the way Moose looked at him. It was just so . . . warm, so welcoming. It just made him happy to know Moose felt that way.

"Then the limo will take you two over to my house, where Reggie and I will be getting pictures. My mom will probably insist on getting pictures of all four of us, and it will probably take forever— we just redid our gazebo, and she can't resist showing it off as much as possible. But our dinner reservations are for six, so she'll have to let us go before then. And then the dance is at seven—we'll probably get there at seven-fifteen or seven-thirty. And then Melody is throwing this bomb-ass after-party. Everyone's going to be there, so we should be there, too," Josie concluded.

"Sounds like my kind of night," Reggie said with a grin.

"Speaking of nights, we're going to call it one," Veronica announced, finally detaching herself from Archie and leading him away toward his jalopy. "See you at the dance!"

"Be sure to use protection!" Reggie called after them.

She sent a scowl his way and pointedly did not say any kind of goodbye to him. "See you, Kevin! Later, Josie and Moose!"

Archie, too, exchanged goodbyes with all of them, and it was only after he watched them climb into the jalopy and drive away that Kevin realized he was feeling awfully drained as well.

"I should be getting home, too, especially if I'm going to be out partying tomorrow night," he told Moose, Josie, and Reggie, even as a part of him was urging him to try to stay with Moose a little longer. "But thanks, Josie, everything sounds fantastic. I'm really looking forward to it," he told her sincerely.

Josie beamed at him. "Glad to hear it, Keller."

Kevin turned to Moose and Reggie. "Brilliant game tonight," he told them, wishing he could give Moose more a more meaningful goodbye, but he felt too shy to do so with Josie and Reggie right there.

Reggie, though, clearly wasn't feeling shy. At first he preened at the praise, but then with an, "Aw, c'mere," he wasted no time in drawing Kevin into a tight hug, antagonizing his bruises somewhat.

Not expecting the embrace and wincing from the pain, Kevin stiffened but was able to recover in time to hug Reggie back slightly before they separated.

Reggie clapped him on the shoulder, not seeming to have noticed his initial discomfort. "All right, man. See you tomorrow."

"See you," Kevin echoed, waving goodbye to them as he started off to his truck, still surprised at Reggie's hug but somewhat touched by it all the same. He'd seen Reggie do the same thing before for football teammates or his other guy friends, and he couldn't deny that it felt nice to be included.

Moose didn't hesitate before falling into step beside him. "I'll walk you to your truck," he offered.

"Oh, you don't have to," Kevin said hastily, even as a part of him shouted at him to simply accept the gesture. "I parked all the way on the other side of the lot. It'll be a pain to walk to, and you're probably tired from the game . . ."

"I don't mind," Moose told him, sincerity in his voice.

Kevin could feel his face warming again, but he managed to give Moose a small smile, hoping his shyness wasn't too obvious. "Thank you."

They didn't speak on their walk, which was almost five hundred yards across the parking lot and around the corner to the spaces on the other side of the football field. Still, Kevin found it to be a comfortable silence, not awkward or disappointing. The stars and moon were out in full force above them, and the cicadas were humming in the nearby trees, and he found himself quite content to simply be walking alongside Moose and enjoying the night together.

When they reached his truck, Kevin was almost sorry, even though he could feel the day wearing on him, urging him to go home and get some rest. He turned to Moose to thank him for walking with him, but he found Moose standing so close that his heart began hammering in his chest.

"Kevin," Moose said, his voice rough and low, his burning in his brown eyes. "Can I kiss you?"

Not trusting himself to speak and too stunned by the request to form a response if he wanted to, Kevin simply nodded, barely able to believe that Moose still wanted him even after the breakdown he'd had in front of him a few days ago.

But evidently Moose did, because he leaned in, pressing his lips against Kevin's, softly at first, but then with growing intensity, his passion increasing.

Kevin loved the feeling. He loved having Moose's solid body against his, he loved the sensation of Moose's warm mouth, loved his rising insistence and aggression.

And yet . . .

He didn't think of Wes. Not really. But he couldn't help but think of all the times that he'd fantasized about Moose grabbing him and kissing him. And then he couldn't help but forcibly remember how he'd once fantasized about Wes kissing him, of taking control of him, only for that fantasy to grow into reality and quickly turn into a nightmare.

Maybe Kevin's fantasies were better off left to his imagination.

Before he realized what he was doing, he'd ripped himself away from the kiss and stumbled back from Moose, thwacking against the side of his truck in his haste to escape, bringing the bruises Wes had left him with to start smarting again simultaneously. Pain lacing through him and muddying his thoughts, for a moment he couldn't adequately reason why or how he'd reacted like he had, and he wondered wildly for several seconds if he was still in control of himself or his body. He could only stare blankly at Moose, who had paused and pulled back when Kevin had broken away, and was now looking at him with an expression that was both startled and confused.

Embarrassment flooded through Kevin as he realized he'd made himself look like a freak in front of Moose yet again and he hurried to try to explain.

"Sorry," he said, struggling to keep his tone light. "Just . . . tired." He inwardly cringed at how lame the excuse sounded. "I wasn't really thinking, and . . ."

Too weary and defeated to come up with a halfway decent excuse, Kevin found himself lamely trailing off into obnoxiously loud silence.

Jesus, no wonder he'd felt like the fun he'd had with Betty, Veronica, and Jughead hadn't belonged to him. These were the kind of moments that were his: uneasy and uncomfortable, made so by his own missteps and fumbling and exacerbated by his painfully awkward floundering.

"I should just get home," Kevin admitted.

"Okay," Moose replied, his eyes searching Kevin's face. And maybe it was just Kevin being unduly optimistic, but he thought that instead of seeming impatient or annoyed, the look on Moose's face was concerned. "See you at your house, then. Tomorrow at four-thirty still good with you?"

"It's wonderful," Kevin replied sincerely, counting himself lucky that Moose even still wanted anything to do with him at all. "I'm looking forward to it."

Moose smiled at him. "I'm glad." Moving forward again and approaching Kevin cautiously, he put a hand to his lips, kissing his fingers. Then he very gently laid that hand on Kevin's cheek, holding it there for a few seconds before pulling away. "Goodnight, Kev."

"Goodnight," Kevin echoed, smiling slightly as Moose waved and then turned away, touching his face where Moose's fingers had been only seconds before. His skin still tingled from the caress, and even in spite of his embarrassment, a giddy feeling flared through him. Moose seemed to genuinely like him even though Kevin kept on acting like a total weirdo around him. It was a small favor after everything that had happened, but Kevin couldn't help but feel grateful for it all the same.

Unlocking his truck, Kevin settled himself in the driver's seat, making a promise to himself as he started the engine.

This night would be the last one Wes would ruin. No more Wes, no more worrying about him and what he had or hadn't done. Tomorrow night would be just about himself and Moose, with no one to bother them.

* * *

"What do you think?" Veronica asked Jughead over the phone as she settled onto the chaise lounge in her bedroom with a stifled groan.

She was tired and wanted to rest; cheerleading practice had been so grueling this week that both of their flyers had ended up with injuries from overuse. As a last-minute attempt at saving her squad from exhaustion, Cheryl had let them have the night off from cheering for the game, though judging by the throbbing in every one of her limbs, Veronica wasn't sure if the brief respite would be enough.

Still, she knew that if she didn't have this conversation before going to sleep, she would never be able to rest.

"I thought he seemed pretty happy. Judging from what I've seen of him, anyway," Veronica continued. It was one of the downfalls of trying to evaluate one of her classmate's behavior as a new student; she had no idea what was the base level of "normal" for Kevin.

"He was," Jughead agreed. There was a faint clatter of a keyboard over on his end of the line. He must have been typing as he talked. "But then, I don't think it's any coincidence that Deputy Ashton is gone from our school and then suddenly Kevin goes from walking around looking like someone shot his dog to dancing on a cloud."

"Me neither," Veronica admitted. She twirled a lock of black hair around her finger anxiously. "Jug, you don't think that . . . I don't know, that Kevin had anything to do with Deputy Ashton suddenly not being around? I mean, when I asked at the school office, they said he'd been summoned out of town for a family matter. But if he's supposed to be out of town, that means no one's been seeing him around Riverdale. If no one has seen him, then no one can verify if he's still alive. Could Kevin have—?"

"Yeah, I've wondered the same thing," Jughead replied slowly. "I guess it depends on what exactly Kevin was mixed up in with him, though. We still haven't figured that out. But . . . I don't know . . . something . . ."

He was hesitating, wanting to tell her something but unwilling to go through with it, and Veronica was intrigued by what it could be.

"Yes?" she inquired. "C'mon, Jughead, spill."

There was extreme reluctance in Jughead's voice when he answered her. "There's another set of events that also has suspicious timing," he told her. "I don't know—it might be nothing—but it's bothering me about what it might mean."

"Maybe I can help you be less bothered," Veronica encouraged him.

Jughead sighed. "Fine. It's like this: one night my dad sees Ashton with the Kevin, the next night I ask about Ashton and he gets all bent out of shape about it, the night after that, my dad tells me to stay away from the Southside, and then Ashton suddenly has to leave town. Logically, what kind of conclusion do you get from that?"

Unsure what what to say, Veronica didn't reply for several moments. She related all too well to the idea of a father being a different person than his child had thought he was, and Jughead's worry that his father was involved in serious criminal activity hit so close to home that it thoroughly discomfited her.

"You don't think it's a coincidence, then?" she asked finally.

Jughead's tone was defeated. "I'd like it to be. I mean . . . he's my dad. But . . . I don't know."

* * *

After sleeping in hours later than usual on Saturday morning, FP finally pulled himself out of bed around noon, grimacing when he saw the time. He somehow always managed to forget how pulling late nights screwed up his internal clock.

Reasoning he'd need his energy for the day, he took the time to prepare himself a generous breakfast, making a mental note to thank Jughead for going grocery shopping earlier in the week. Jug was staying at the Andrews house for the weekend, and FP was just glad he'd be safely away from any potential messiness with Ashton.

Speaking of Ashton, he needed to get his supplies ready.

The revolver was a spare he'd kept for years after picking it up at a pawn shop in Toledo. The serial numbers had long ago been filed off; it couldn't be proven to be his. The tarp was actually one he'd bought years ago, back when they'd briefly lived on the Northside, for some house painting work that he'd never gotten around to starting. It was a standard type from a common brand, one that sold a million of its kind a year, and still new in the package.

None of it would be traced back to him or any of the other Serpents.

With his plan laid out and this whole damn business set to be put to rest in only a matter of hours, FP was feeling fairly confident in himself. Later that afternoon, he even took the time to mosey on over to the swamps in his truck, making sure that none of the roads were closed and that they'd be able to stay out of sight as they carried the body over to where they could hide it. And since it all looked good, FP was holding onto the cautious belief that they'd get away with their revenge with no consequence.

That was, until he got a panicked call from Cain right around four-thirty, just as he had started to head back.

"Ashton escaped," Cain said without wasting any time, obviously trying to be calm but alarm clear in his voice anyway. "And there's a fire at the trailer park—we think he's the one who set it."

"Oh, fuck. " FP's blood froze in his veins as he realized the danger both Jughead and Kevin were in. "How long has he been out?"

"Don't know," Cain admitted. "Guard duty got screwed up, and a couple of the younger Serpents ended up in the basement without anyone to warn them away. Wes overpowered them and got out. They got locked in, and it was a while before anyone found them."

FP's mind raced as he realized what needed to be done. He was desperate to rush to Jughead and make sure he was safe, but he knew that there was one person in particular that Wes would want to go after first.

"Listen to me," he commanded. "I need you to send out a group of Serpents to Keller's house."

"Sheriff Keller?" Cain asked, stunned.

"Yeah. Send one group there, and I'll meet them there and explain. Then send another group over to Fred Andrews's house. Have them stay and protect everyone there. Keep the younger Serpents at the Wyrm with an older group there to protect them." A sick feeling churned in FP's stomach as he realized he might have signed Kevin's death warrant by capturing and torturing Ashton like they had. "We need to find Ashton. Or else people are going to die."

* * *

From the moment Kevin woke up on Saturday morning, he was filled with anticipation for the dance that night. After being unable to sleep past seven o'clock, he rose, dressed, and made a breakfast for himself and his father of a frittata and rosemary potatoes. The frittata had just finished setting when his father came downstairs, already in uniform.

"Morning, Kev," Tom said, walking over to him and pulling him into a brief hug. "Breakfast looks phenomenal, thank you! You didn't have to do all of that."

"I wanted to," Kevin told him, fighting not to cry out when his father unknowingly pressed against his injuries. A brief spike of hatred shot through him at Wes for so thoroughly polluting his life that he couldn't so much as get a hug from his father without thinking of him, but he pushed the emotion away. Today wasn't about Wes. It was about having a nice night with Moose. "Big night tonight," he added, a grin creeping onto his features.

"So it is," Tom agreed, spooning potatoes onto his plate. "I'll be home at three-thirty so I can help you get ready, meet your date, and get a few pictures. Do you need me to get anything on my way home?"

Kevin shook his head and sawed off a large slice of the frittata to give to his father. "No, I'm good. I've got everything I need. I'm entirely ready for tonight," he said with a swell of happiness.

His father departed for the station shortly afterward, giving Kevin a kiss on the forehead before he went, and Kevin was left to his own devices. After putting away the leftovers and rinsing off the dishes, he decided to get started on his weekend homework and makeup work from his absence from school on Wednesday. Both too anxious and too excited to concentrate, the process took him much longer than it normally would, and it was almost noon by the time he was completely finished with all of his academics.

At odds with himself, Kevin decided to use the time he had to spare to iron the black pants of his suit and the white dress shirt he'd be wearing. He'd ironed them both on Wednesday night after his father had come to his rescue by giving him the vest, but Kevin figured one more time couldn't hurt.

In the remaining few hours, he tried to occupy himself the best he could with housework, taking care of the laundry, vacuuming, and general organization of the downstairs rooms that he'd been too preoccupied to take care of during the week. While he was tempted to go outdoors and work on some of their lawn projects just to kill time, Kevin was too nervous that he'd somehow grievously injure himself and be unable to go to the dance, so he stuck to the indoors.

Finally, finally, three o'clock arrived, and Kevin shed his clothes and popped into the shower, determinedly not thinking about the bruises from Wes dotting his torso and instead concentrating on thoroughly cleaning himself with the bar of soap and his favorite woodsy-smelling shower gel.

Since he'd focused more on his body than his hair in the shower, he could get away with towel-drying it, and styling it again didn't take very long. He made himself look neat, but with a playful tousle to show that he wasn't entirely straight-laced, and while he wasn't completely happy with it at the end, he reasoned that it would look better once it dried.

Once he finished with his hair, Kevin double-checked to make sure that he was thoroughly dried off, and then he began dressing. He glanced at the time as he buttoned his trousers: three-twenty-seven. His father would be home soon, then.

After buttoning his shirt and making sure his cuffs were straight, Kevin sat on his bed and pulled on a pair of black socks and his black dress shoes that he'd polished just last night before the football game. He'd done a good job with them; he could practically see his reflection. Of course, if tonight went the way he wanted it to, they'd probably be covered with dust and dirt from dancing across the gym floor by the end of the evening and then be subject to God knows what at Melody's after-party. Still, Kevin thought it was important to make an effort, especially since this time was his first time having an actual date for the dance.

Next, he carefully donned the tie and then the vest, taking pains to only use the gentlest handling on each button for the latter, not wanting to ruin the garment his father had given to him. Once finished, Kevin couldn't help but admire his image in the mirror once more, proud of the way he looked, that even in spite of the recent chaos in his life, he still managed to look collected and composed in his dance outfit.

With some time left to spare, Kevin returned to the bathroom to give hairstyling another try; this time much more satisfied with the end result now that his hair was dry. He couldn't help but notice, though, as he compulsively checked the time, never wanting to fall a minute behind schedule, that his father was late getting home, which was a rarity.

He probably just got caught up with security detail for the dance, Kevin told himself. And yet, a prickle of unease still ran through him.

Just as the clock turned four, his phone rang, the display showing his father's name and a photo of the two of them on a sunny hillside, one they'd taken during a day of hiking.

Kevin couldn't help a flash of anxiety as he answered. "Hello, Dad?"

"It's me," Tom confirmed. "Hey, Kev. Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I'm not going to be able to make it to photos with you and Moose. I'm really sorry, but a fire started down at the trailer park, and since most of the force is off right now so they can be on duty for later tonight, I need to help out over here."

"Fire?" Kevin repeated. His thoughts immediately went to Jughead, FP, and all of the other Serpents who lived in the trailer park. "Oh my God, is everyone okay?"

"The fire company was able to get it under control quickly, and only minor injuries are reported so far," Tom told him. "We might have gotten lucky on this one. It doesn't seem like anyone was seriously injured. Still, I need to oversee the clean-up and make sure everyone is safe before I can come home."

"I understand," Kevin replied, ignoring the twinge of disappointment he felt that his father wouldn't be there to see him off to the dance. The work his father was doing was more important. "I'll make sure Mayor McCoy gives you pictures of me and Moose."

"Thanks for understanding, sweetheart," Tom said kindly. "Have fun tonight, but remember the Cinderella curfew—be home by midnight. Love you."

"Will do, Dad. Love you, too." Kevin ended the call, and, his heart thrumming nervously, started making his final preparations for the dance. A surge of anxiety shot through him as he realized he'd be doing his first official dance completely on his own, without even his dad there to give him a pep talk beforehand.

The minutes seemed to crawl by as Kevin checked and double-checked to make certain that he was completely ready. As four-thirty arrived at long last, he was scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror for the umpteenth time and happened to glance out the window. With a smile, he spotted the familiar forest green Dodge Dart Swinger pulling up in front of the house before the angle of the bedroom window caused the car to slide out of view.

Anticipation flowing through him, Kevin gave himself one last quick once-over in the mirror before making his way toward the stairs. He was careful to descend slowly; he had already made a fool of himself in front of Moose twice, and he didn't want to augment that by tripping over himself and falling on his face right in front of him.

The doorbell rang just as Kevin was walking to the entrance, and it was with a welcoming smile and an anxious fluttering in the pit of his stomach that he pulled open the heavy wooden door, ready to greet Moose.

But beyond his car, there was no sign of Moose.

Instead, Wes stood there like a figure from a nightmare, his unshaven face bruised and bloodied, his hair matted, his clothing torn and reeking. His expression was one of absolute hatred, fierce and unnerving in its intensity.

"You told people about me, Kev," he snarled, his voice rasping out of his throat. "I warned you not to do that. And now, you're gonna pay for that."

Kevin could only stand there, frozen in horror, as Wes began to move toward him.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

All right, the big confrontation is next chapter! Will FP and the Serpents get there in time? What's Wes going to do to Kevin? And what did he do to poor Moose?


	11. Chapter 11

The world around Kevin seemed to slow down as Wes's hand reached out for him, and before he knew it, Wes had grabbed him and forcefully yanked him forward, sending him stumbling over the front stoop and then crashing to the floor of the porch.

Kevin let out a curse as he slammed against the hard concrete. For a moment, he lay there, stunned, his knees and palms smarting. But just as he was about to reflexively push himself back up, his gaze landed on an object only a few feet away: the heavy clay bowl they used for the cat's kibble.

Before he could reach out and grasp it, rough hands jerked at his shoulders, rolling him over and shoving back down on onto the concrete. Kevin only had time to glimpse the savage fury on Wes's face before he drove a solid punch straight into his stomach, and when Kevin went to double over in pain, landed another punch directly into his face, just below one eye.

Pain exploded within Kevin, radiating from his face to his torso, but in a moment of desperation, he reached behind himself, fumbling, for the clay dish. Somehow, as Wes was pulling back to punch him again, he managed to grab onto it and lift it above his head just as Wes rammed his fist forward. This time, instead Wes bringing another blow down on Kevin, Kevin bashed the bowl straight onto Wes's head, using as much force as he could.

"Motherfucker!" Wes instantly recoiled, drawing back from Kevin momentarily, but if anything, the retaliation seemed to infuriate him further.

He lunged for Kevin again, but operating purely on instinct, Kevin smashed the bowl into his face as many times as he could—once, twice—and then on the third time, it shattered, scattering sharp clay pieces all around them. As Wes fell back, trying to recover from Kevin's onslaught, Kevin dove for the largest shard he could find, ignoring when the impact reignited the stinging in his knees.

Then, perhaps overly confident that defending himself with the bowl had worked at all, Kevin sprung toward Wes, slashing at his face with the shard, a feral glee blossoming within him when Wes let out a cry of pain.

But his victory was short-lived, and Kevin realized too late that he never should have approached Wes, because the blows from the clay dish didn't affect him very long. Only seconds after Kevin came at him, Wes managed to grab him by the arm, trying to wrestle him down to the porch again, his full weight pressing down on him and driving him back to the ground.

With the terrifying realization that he didn't know what Wes was going to do to him if he held the upper hand for more than a second or two, Kevin gave an immense effort and wrenched himself free, tearing away from Wes and instantly taking off into the large front yard, only one solid thought ricocheting around in his mind.

 _Moose._ Where was Moose? What had Wes done to him?

While Kevin may have been giving his best effort, he was still aching from the initial attack, and within a few paces, something gave in his knee, sending his entire lower leg spasming. The flare of pain, sudden and sharp and unforgiving, forced him to stop in his tracks.

Giving Wes just enough time to sprint up behind and tackle him to ground.

The crash to the ground aggravated Kevin's injuries entirely anew, the new ones Wes had just given him as well as the bruises from raping him, and Kevin found himself engulfed by pain. He could barely raise a hand to defend himself when Wes slammed yet another punch into his jaw.

"Never should have even bothered with a little bitch like you!" Wes raged, hauling Kevin up again only to sock him in the stomach once more. "Should have known that you'd go crying to someone eventually!" His next punch hit Kevin in the temple, sending sparks across his vision.

"Hey!" There was a new voice, an angry one, from nearby. It took Kevin longer than it should have to register that it was familiar. "Hey, get the fuck off of him!"

Wes was moving above him, and Kevin vaguely processed that he was getting ready to punch him again. And then, just as he was bracing himself, Wes was suddenly torn away from him, his foot jostling painfully against Kevin's ribcage as he was pulled away.

Kevin found himself lying there, fighting to catch his breath, as he registered sounds of a struggle very close by. Barely managing to gather the strength, he forced himself to roll over onto his stomach, then painstaking propped himself up on his elbows before pushing himself up onto his feet and turning slowly, scanning the yard for the source of the noise, black spots still dancing at the edge of his vision.

But then he spotted it, and a moment passed before it occurred to him that Moose was there, that he was there and absolutely whaling on Wes, pummeling him over and over and over like no one else Kevin had ever seen.

And maybe it was sick, but a brutal sense of satisfaction filled Kevin as he saw someone finally giving Wes a taste of his own medicine. Still, he could barely believe that he'd been lucky enough for someone else to intervene.

"Moose," he gasped out, too faint for anyone to hear, his breath rattling around in his lungs. It seemed like a phenomenal effort just to speak.

On unsteady legs, he dragged himself over to where Moose and Wes were locked in combat, relieved to see that it seemed like Moose was winning. As he watched, Moose delivered one final blow, and then Wes went still, slumping back against the ground.

Kevin could barely get his voice to work. "Is he—?"

Moose went to feel for his pulse, breathing hard, his hands shaking, no doubt due to the adrenaline. "Just unconscious." He stared at Kevin, not breaking eye contact as he stood to meet him. "Who the hell is this guy? Some tweaker?" He frowned, noticing how Kevin was holding himself. "You all right? Did he get you?"

" 'm fine," Kevin grated out, trying to swallow and moisten his dry throat. "We need to call someone. The police. My dad."

His dad. His dad would know what to do. He'd be so upset when Kevin told him what happened, and Kevin would have to tell him. His stomach twisted at the thought, but he knew there could be no more hiding it.

Dimly, he tried to recall where his dad was right now, and he thought that maybe he knew, but his mind was too cloudy for him to remember.

A questioning expression was plain on Moose's face, and Kevin couldn't help a stab of guilt and discomfort, and he had to look away to avoid his gaze. It was then that Kevin realized the white suit jacket Moose was wearing was now smeared grass stains and smattered with droplets of blood, and the guilty feeling in the pit his stomach swelled. They should have been able to have a fantastic time out at the dance tonight, but that had already been ruined.

"I don't have my phone," Moose said as he began searching more hurriedly. His gaze sought out Wes, his mouth set in a grim line. "He must have taken it. My keys, too. He jumped me just as I was walking up to the door. Knocked me out for a bit."

Kevin's guilt worsened, but something about what Moose had said bothered him, too, something he thought was important but he couldn't quite name. Eventually, he thought he had it figured out. "He must have known my dad wasn't here," he said, frowning in concentration. "And with no neighbors around, he didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him."

Moose paused, his brow furrowing as he looked at Kevin, and he reached out to gently cup his face.

"Yeah," he said, glancing at Wes's prone form again. "Yeah, probably, but _why?_ Why is he out to get you?"

"I—" Kevin couldn't explain. He had no idea where to start, and he couldn't think clearly. Pain was flaring up all over his body again, and every time he breathed, his ribs ached. Instead of answering Moose's question, he found himself checking his own pockets, realizing he didn't have his phone either. He couldn't recall if he'd even had it with him when he'd answered the door, and an involuntary shudder came over him as the image of Wes standing there flashed through his mind.

"Hey." Moose place a gentle hand on his shoulder, concern apparent in his brown eyes. "Listen, we don't have to talk about this now. He's out cold. Let me just grab my phone and my keys, and then we can call someone, and then this will all be over."

 _Over?_ Kevin could barely imagine it. He'd thought the fiasco with Wes was over when FP had promised he'd take care of it, but here was Wes, back again like a recurring tumor. Maybe Kevin would never truly be free of him.

Maybe it was already too late and Moose shouldn't even bother.

He opened his mouth to tell Moose as much, but with his sluggish thoughts, by the time he was capable of forming the words, Moose had already turned back to Wes and was kneeling down down to rummage through the pockets of his rancid jeans.

Instant dread overcame Kevin, a sharp, distinct feeling that the worst of this evening was yet to come, and he was just about to call out a warning when he saw, to his utter horror, Wes's eyes snap open. Moose, too preoccupied with searching for his belongings, didn't realize what was happening until it was too late, when Wes was already rocketing up towards him.

"Moose, look out!" Kevin yelled frantically, but Wes had already made his move, snapping out one hand to throttle Moose, and, when Moose's hands immediately went to pry out of Wes's grip, sending a fist flying into Moose's head.

As Kevin stood, watching in fear and disbelief, Moose reared back before dropping bodily back into the grass, where he lay there, limp and unmoving. For a moment, Kevin only could stare in dismay, praying that Moose would somehow manage to get up again, but he didn't so much as stir.

Moose may not have been moving, but Wes was. With a venomous stare fixed directly on Kevin, he began pushing himself up off the ground, attempting to stand. But Moose's attack had clearly left its mark; Wes was extremely unsteady on his feet, falling to his knees the first time he painstakingly tried to rise. It was evident that running or even walking would be a problem for him.

Without even really thinking about it, Kevin turned and took off as fast as he could toward the backyard, squinting as the haze of the lowering evening sun halfway blinded him. He could barely see, but he knew the area well enough that he didn't think he would have much of a problem.

Wes shouted hoarsely after him, in a voice so rough and raw with fury that Kevin barely recognized it.

"You can't run!" The words ripped from his mouth raggedly, almost a scream. "You can't run from me, not this time!"

His heart pounding a mile a minute, Kevin didn't bother to even respond, instead doing his best to concentrate on the strategy his mind was fighting to form. Between himself and Moose, he was the one Wes truly hated. If he could lure Wes away from Moose, get Wes to chase him, then Moose might be able to get to safety.

Moose was okay, he told himself, as the image of Moose going limp ricocheted around in his brain. He had to be okay.

And with Moose out of danger, then Kevin could take on Wes. This time, Kevin would fight him.

His resolve hardened the closer he got to the forest, moving as quickly as he could given his injuries. It didn't seem like Wes was rational anymore, his reasoning or logic gone and instead replaced by one main goal: revenge. On Kevin. And it made him a desperate man, one with nothing to lose. He had no self-preservation any longer, just a desire to hurt Kevin as much as possible. That gave him an advantage.

But Kevin had an advantage, too. This was his family's land. He knew the terrain. He'd grown up here, playing in the forest and climbing in and out of the gulley. And he had a plan about how to put his knowledge into action.

One time he'd vowed to fight Wes, to try to seduce him and then use the evidence against him. But he'd failed, mainly out of fear, out of helplessness. And during every confrontation with Wes, he'd fled, choosing flight over fight.

This time, Kevin would stand his ground and fight. Wes likely expected him to run, but not this time, not anymore.

At long last, Kevin reached the forest, momentarily sightless as his vision adjusted from the brightness of the open field to the the dimness created by the clusters of trees. To avoid tripping or stumbling, he wasn't able to keep his speed and needing to slow his pace to walk—and so would Wes.

That was his idea. To use Wes's abrupt loss of vision against him, to go on the offensive when he least expected it and wouldn't be able to fight back. A few good, solid blows would incapacitate him—or so Kevin hoped.

"Please let this work," Kevin muttered to no one in particular as he blinked rapidly, finally able to see properly again. "Dear God, I really need this to work."

He didn't even want to think about what would happen if his plan didn't work.

Staying as focused as he could, ignoring the way his chest and ribs protested as his lungs heaved, ignoring the jolts of pain from his knees and arms, Kevin made his way toward the stone bridge that was further into the forest. When he'd been there just the other day, he'd spotted some fallen oak branches, still thick and sturdy. He could easily bludgeon Wes with one, he thought, and he increased his pace. He needed to find his weapon right away. Wes couldn't be that far behind him, and Kevin needed the advantage of his sight loss—he'd never be able to best Wes in a one-on-one fight, not now.

Relief overcame him as the stone bridge loomed into sight, and Kevin allowed himself a brief feeling of victory before it was lost to his growing sense of desperation and panic. He had to remember his plan. He had to find his weapon and be ready to use it.

His mind was whirling with thoughts, and he must have been too preoccupied, because he didn't see the small stone in his path, not even once. He felt it, though, recognizing its shape and texture as one of his running footfalls landed on it, and he felt it again as it skittered out from beneath his one foot just as his other left the ground, causing him to frantically twist and turn as he attempted to regain his balance.

But it was useless. He fell forward, scraping his palms again and this time his elbows, too, and his ankle wrenched around, sending a burst of fiery pain shooting through the rest of his leg and bringing him to let out an involuntary cry.

As soon as he touched the ground, Kevin was already fighting to stand up, knowing he didn't have the time to try to recover, that he needed to keep moving. He tried standing, pushing past the sting in his palms as he tried to shove himself up off the ground, but another rush of intense pain had him giving up with a gasp.

He was stuck. He was stuck, and no one was coming to help him, not now. Moose was down, his father was gone, and no one else would be coming around the Keller house except for the limo driver. That wasn't for at least another twenty minutes, and there was little chance he'd even be able to find Kevin. There was no one else coming to save him, no cavalry charging to the rescue.

This was it. Wes had won.

Kevin let his head drop to the ground, ignoring the bite of the hard stone against his cheek. Anger and outrage built within him at the sheer unfairness of it all, at how fucking ridiculous it was that Wes had been able to destroy his life and that now he would probably succeed in killing him. It just wasn't right that Kevin should have to die like this, have to die just because of some guy he'd trusted when he shouldn't have.

Just as a fire was beginning to build within him, as he was beginning to seethe at how life had cheated him, some kind of object brushed against him and something began scraping at the open palm of his hand. Kevin started, automatically jumping at the contact, knowing that Wes would be there for him soon.

But as he reached back to find out what it was, his fingers met with soft fuzz. At first, Kevin thought it was some kind of woodland animal, but as it brushed against him again, Kevin turned his head and found a pair of large yellow eyes staring at him, practically luminous in the shadows of the forest. It was the small gray cat. She was checking on him, it seemed.

"Get out of here," Kevin told her desperately. He didn't want to see what Wes would do if he got ahold of some helpless animal. "Run! Go away!"

He tried to swipe at the cat with his hand, but he could barely coordinate his limbs, and a wave of dizziness pounded over him when he tried to move. The sensation was so intense that Kevin needed to lay his head down again and wait for it to pass.

And just as it was beginning to, he detected the unmistakable sound of someone crashing through the forest.

 _Wes,_ he thought with a bitter sense of defeat. Wes had come for him.

The gray cat registered the noise as well, her ears pricking up as she swiveled her head in the direction of the noise. Then, to Kevin's distress, she bounded off toward it, going right toward Wes's path. He watched her go with the hope that she'd be too quick for Wes to ever catch.

Speaking of being caught . . .

With a new burst of determination, Kevin again tried to stand and again found his ankle too weak to support him. Desperately, he searched around for a weapon he could use, but found none. Accepting his fate, he rolled over, switching from lying on his stomach to propping himself up on his side, making up his mind to fight Wes as much as he could even if he couldn't stand.

Wes might be there to kill him, but Kevin wasn't going to make that easy for him.

He adjusted to the new position just as he spotted Wes's outline lurching forward, wading out of the shadows like a creature from a nightmare. His bruised and bleeding face, riddled with scrapes and punctures, no longer handsome in the slightest, split open in an ugly grin when he saw that Kevin was left defenseless.

"Almost too easy," he remarked, slowing his pace, his limping run turning into an arrogant stroll.

Hatred surged through Kevin at his gloating. "Rot in hell, Wes. Fuck knows it's where you belong."

Wes's smirk disappeared. "Guess I'll see you there," he snarled, his pace increasing again, and he rushed forward at him.

Kevin braced himself, and even as he resolved to look death square in the face, he found himself closing his eyes.

So he would never be quite sure what happened next.

He heard Wes's footfalls approaching. Could smell his repulsive odor as he neared. Knew that he was close, too close, and that within a moment, would be reaching out for Kevin again, maybe to strangle him like he'd tried doing to Moose.

But something happened as Wes lunged for him. One moment, Kevin could feel the vibrations of his rapid footsteps, the next moment he heard a loud feline screech from right nearby, a horrible caterwaul that had the hair on the back of his neck standing upright. And then, before the awful sound was even finished, Wes shouted a curse, there was a brief scrabbling (later, Kevin would realize that it was Wes's shoes sliding over mossy stone), and then a thud with an audible crack that both came so quickly that Kevin couldn't tell which one had happened first.

Then there was nothing. No more of Wes's footsteps, no more of Wes's voice. No more Wes.

Daring to risk opening his eyes, Kevin was surprised and then relieved to find himself utterly alone, half-sitting, half-lying on on the path just where the stone bridge began.

Well, almost alone. Because just as he was beginning to wonder what had happened, the cat padded out of the tall grass just by the gulley's edge, making her way towards him.

Relieved she was all right, Kevin reached out to pet her, and she complied, eagerly rubbing her head against the palm of his hand. He gasped slightly at the pain of the friction against his already injured hands, and she paused, looking up at him as if in apology. Then she came closer, using two paws to lightly stand on his bicep and nuzzling her head against his chin, her movements careful and gentle, as if she knew he was injured.

"Glad you're okay," Kevin murmured to her, suddenly almost too drained to speak. With shaking hands, he stroked down her flank even as his palm stung. As he did, he glanced around in confusion, looking for some kind of explanation. What had happened to Wes? Was he still nearby? Was Kevin still in danger?

Dimly, off in the distance, Kevin thought that he could hear the sounds of maybe a half-dozen motorcycles coming closer and closer. Other than that, the woods were still.

Knowing he needed to go and make sure Moose was okay, Kevin took in several deep breaths, preparing himself for the sharp pain that would come as he climbed to his feet, and then began to drag himself closer to the wall of the bridge, cringing as the motion tore at the already sore skin of his palms but continuing anyway. Then, once at the wall, he reached for the ledge, gripping it as hard as he could, and hauled himself upward, taking the weight on his arms and shoulders and trying to put at little as he could on his legs. Even so, his ankle screamed in protest, and he needed to sit down on the wall and catch his breath before moving any further. When he could think through the pain again, he could see that he would need to reconsider his plan. No way would he be able to make it back the entire walk to the house in this state.

Just as he was scanning his surroundings, trying to find a better option, a flash of bright color caught Kevin's eye, and he looked back to where he'd glimpsed it, back down into the gulley.

"Jesus Christ," Kevin said out loud as he saw what it was.

It was Wes's red T-shirt. It was was Wes. He was lying there in the dessicated creek bed, facing upward. His eyes stared sightlessly, and his neck was bent at an awkward angle. It was evident that he was dead.

He must have fallen, Kevin realized, as the gray cat hopped up onto the ledge beside him. Most of most of the land surrounding the creek was sloped, making it easy to climb in and out of. But the part of the gulley right by the start on the bridge on all four sides was a sheer drop of ten feet, since the land had been carved away to build the bridge. And at that height, the fall had killed Wes.

But as Kevin thought back to what he'd heard, it occurred to him that Wes hadn't just fallen. He'd tripped, he realized, turning to look at the cat, recalling the distinct yowling he'd heard. Something had gotten in his way, causing him to go sprawling off the path and plunge into the gulley.

The cat, utterly unbothered, simply nuzzled against him again, rubbing her face against his arm. Knowing it was the least he could do, Kevin reached out to pet the cat again.

"Good cat," he whispered to her, but the moment he got the words out, it suddenly seemed like too much effort to speak, or even to sit upright.

And, negating his earlier progress, Kevin found himself slumping back to ground so he could at least lie down and rest.

He was tired. He was just so, so tired.

Maybe he fell asleep, then, because when he became aware of several pairs of footsteps running towards him, his mind felt fuzzy and dull, like he was just coming out of a deep sleep.

Vaguely, he was aware of someone putting their hand on his shoulder and jostling him, but he couldn't see their face. His eyes wouldn't focus.

"Hey! Hey, kid, you with me?" The jostling intensified.

Kevin knew that voice. Knew who it was, he was pretty sure. But at the moment, he couldn't place it.

He tried to peer up at them, but he could only just see movement, barely even make out the shapes. "Who . . .?"

"FP. FP Jones." There was an urgency to the voice. "Listen, kid, where's Ashton? We gotta get you away from him."

"Goddamn." It was a different voice. Kevin didn't know this one. "Look down there. Guy's dead."

"Good." FP replied, and yet another voice agreed.

For a moment, Kevin was confused, but then he remembered all the footsteps. It made sense: multiple voices, multiple pairs of feet. Looked like the cavalry had come to rescue him after all.

He laughed a little bit at that, but it hurt to laugh, and with a hiss of pain, he let his head drop back to the ground, closing his eyes.

"Kid? Kid? Kevin!" It was FP again, and it sounded like he was snapping his fingers. His voice made it sound like what he was talking about was important. "Listen, you need to stay with me, all right?" To someone else, Kevin heard him say, "We need to get him to a hospital. This fucking minute." To Kevin he said, "Hey, come on. Come on, kid—"

Kevin wanted to say something. Wanted to thank him for rushing to his rescue again, wanted to ask about Moose, wanted to beg for his father to come and be with him.

He couldn't manage any of those things, and it seemed like a Herculean effort just to whisper his next words.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out, and then he closed his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

The waiting area at emergency room was so quiet and still that it left FP uneasy. With the only sound being distant footsteps of voices of unseen people from further up of the hall and the occasional clatter of the reception nurse's keyboard, the pervading hush made him feel at odds with himself, igniting an itch beneath his skin, an urge to do something. To get up, to move, to pace back and forth along the floor. Except he'd already tried that, and he'd gotten bored with it after just two lengths across the room.

He was nervous, he'd admit that. After all, right now there was a body of a police deputy that he'd tortured lying in the fucking backyard of the town's sheriff, with the sheriff's son now at this very hospital, just rooms away. Meanwhile, FP didn't know if his home would be standing by the time he got home, so God only knew if he and his son were going to have a place to sleep that night.

It was pretty much a clusterfuck. But it was a clusterfuck that he need to do his best to control. Somehow.

"Go and find Keller," he'd ordered Severine as she'd helped him load Kevin's unconscious form into the cab of his truck. "He'll be at Sunnyside. Send him over to meet me at the emergency room at the hospital. Let him know his son is there. Then go and make sure to keep the younger Serpents corralled for a little while longer."

She'd nodded in confirmation, turning to her bike. FP had scanned the yard, noting that Tall Boy and Cain were helping that football player into his Dodge Swinger. They'd be getting him to the hospital, too; one of them would be doing the driving since the kid was probably concussed.

And with that, knowing that two more Serpents were checking Ashton's body, making sure nothing incriminating to them could be found, he'd fired up his truck and sped off to bring Kevin to the hospital, the Dodge Dart quickly appearing to follow behind with Cain at the wheel.

The three of them had managed to drag Kevin and the football kid into the ER, and the staff had taken over from there, wheeling them away on gurneys, with the football kid mostly conscious and Kevin still totally out of it, much to FP's worry. He'd tried to answer the nurse's questions the best he could when asked, but hadn't actually known many details beyond what he could guess: that Ashton had attacked them both and hadn't held back even a goddamn bit. And when she'd walked away to enter the little information he could supply into the computer, he'd sent Tall Boy and Cain to go check on the residents of the Andrews house. Tall Boy would lead the Serpents currently guarding them back to the trailer park to help with any clean-up efforts, and Cain would let the Andrews household and its guests know to stay calm and that FP would be along to explain himself shortly.

As soon as he was done explaining himself to the sheriff.

FP grimaced at the thought. It wasn't that he was afraid of Tom Keller, but he knew he would have to tread carefully to avoid incriminating himself or the Serpents. And he'd have to tell Tom what a monster Ashton had truly been. Both what he suspected Ashton had done to kids from the Southside and what he knew that Ashton had done to Kevin.

Low dread coiled in FP's gut when his thoughts flashed to the inevitable conversation he would need to have with Tom. He'd be a liar if he claimed that any love was lost between the two of them, but it was only a sick motherfucker who would take any pleasure in letting another parent know their kid had been brutalized.

And that kid could so easily have been Jughead instead of Kevin.

The knowledge unsettled FP, and he was left scrubbing at his face with his hands. It was a twisted thing, he knew, to be grateful that it had been someone else's kid getting raped and not his own, but at least FP had stepped up to the task when that other kid had to come to him for help. And he figured he still owed it to Kevin to stick around and help him out any way he could, even though there was not doubt in his mind that Tom was going to tear into the waiting room at any moment, halfway down the warpath already and ready to obliterate anyone or anything he thought might have landed his son in the hospital.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than did a flurry of rapid footsteps from heavy boots echo in from the adjoining hallway. Then, in an instant, Tom Keller himself strode into the room, his shoulders taut with tension and a look of barely restrained fury on his face.

Speak of the devil.

Tom's eyes narrowed as they landed on FP, but first he turned to the reception desk, urgency replacing his anger as he leaned forward to speak with the nurse.

"I'm here for an update on Kevin Keller," he said, his tone rushed but quiet. "He's been admitted, correct?"

"Of course, Sheriff." The nurse, a bespectacled young woman, tapped away on her keyboard. "He was admitted about a half hour ago with injuries suggestive of a physical assault. It's conclusive with what we were told about his circumstances." Her head ever so slightly turned toward FP, enough for Tom to shoot him an accusing look, before she gave her full attention back to Tom. "Your son is currently still in an examination room, but he's not in any immediate danger. Given that he's a minor, we called the station as soon as he was admitted to report his condition. You're the first officer who's arrived."

"That'll be because of the fire at Sunnyside and the high school dance," Tom informed her, an edge of frustration entering his voice. "The station just didn't have anyone to spare. But I'm here now, and I'll be staying until I can see Kevin."

The nurse nodded. "Understood, Sheriff. I'll page Kevin's doctor and let her know. She'll be out here to speak with you right away."

"Thank you." Tom turned away from her and stalked over to FP, his mouth set in a grim line as he came to stand before him.

"You want to tell me what the hell is going on?" he asked in a very tightly controlled voice. "Why my son is in the hospital? And why you sent one of your Serpents to tell me so?"

FP had to fight against the urge to rise to stand level with Tom; his first instinct was to bolt up and meet him head-on, but he forced it down. He wasn't here to challenge Tom, just to deliver devastating news.

"Tom." He looked up at him, trying to keep his voice even. "You should sit down."

Tom threw him a look of impatience mixed with contempt. "Like hell am I sitting down. My son should be at a goddamn school dance, and instead, he's at the hospital. And you're going to tell me why. " He finished by sending an emphatic stare FP's way.

"And I will," FP said, struggling to keep his calm, anxiety mixing with the dread stewing within him. "But I think you're definitely going to want to sit down for this one."

His sincerity must have been evident in his tone, because some of the harshness on Tom's face faded to be replaced by worry, and he reluctantly lowered himself into a chair by FP, leaving an empty seat in between them.

"What is it, FP?" Tom asked, staring at him intently. "What's going on?"

FP took a deep breath, trying to gather any wits he had about him. "Wes Ashton is dead," he said flatly but quietly. Tom instantly reared back in surprise, but FP held up a hand for his silence. "He tried to attack Kevin and his date over at your place. Took a wrong turn in the woods back there and ended up with his neck snapped at the bottom of that dried-up riverbed."

Tom let out a strangled noise of disbelief. " Wes? Attacked Kevin ? But . . . why? He's one of the best guys on my force!"

FP's stomach twisted with guilt; he knew he'd promised to keep Kevin's secret for Tom, but given the situation, there was no way he could avoid explaining. Besides, he knew if it had been Jughead in Kevin's place, he'd have wanted to know the truth so he could be there for his boy.

"He'd raped Kevin just earlier that week," FP told him, fresh disgust for Ashton coiling in his stomach as he spoke the words. "And he'd tried to do the same thing back when the summer was just starting."

Shock and then devastation filled Tom's features, and he looked away, blinking in disbelief, his mouth opening and shutting several times, unable to speak. After several moments of silence, he looked back at FP again, shock on his face that was slowly morphing into horror.

"How do you know this?" he rasped, a haunted look glinting in his eyes.

In spite of all their differences, FP felt a distinct stab of sympathy for him. "Kevin came to me this past Wednesday, the morning after Ashton raped him. I'd seen them together a few days earlier, and it looked like Ashton was hasslin' him, so I put a stop to it. And when Kevin told me the truth about what had happened, I decided to . . . take action," he finished carefully, not wanting to confess to any of his or the Serpents' crimes just yet.

Tom rubbed at his face with his hands, his shoulders slumped. "Kevin went to you ? About—about something like this ?"

He let the obvious question of Why didn't he come to me? remain unspoken.

FP paused briefly. The idea of a son going to a different father for help hit a little bit too close to home for him, reminding him of all the times that Jughead had gone to Fred Andrews rather than him. So he tried his best to shrug and play it off.

"Ashton was threatening Kevin, telling him he'd get to you and Jughead if he tried to tell anyone. That he'd hurt you and frame Jughead for it. And since Kevin knew by then that I was no fan of Ashton, he decided I should know," FP told him. He was unable to stop his voice from hardening as he added, "No one threatens my son and gets away with it. Should've done it sooner—Ashton had been rumored for years to be a rapist."

"What?" Tom looked at him sharply, stunned disbelief overtaking his face again. "There are other victims? Other kids who Wes—?"

"Just rumors," FP repeated. "I mean, I don't doubt it. If Wes was willing to go after your kid . . ." he trailed off when he saw that Tom looked away, pain and fury flashing across his face. "No one else ever came out and said it. Just talked about it happening to Southside kids who crossed Ashton. He had a reputation, and even though Kevin was the first kid who came to me about it, God knows how many other kids he made do the same thing."

Tom let out a weary exhale, his voice taking on a frantic tone. "We'll have to do a complete review of all of Wes's casefiles. See how much access he had to minors, encourage any past victims to come forward, check to see if he was leveraging charges in exchange for sexual favors. It'll take months to review, but it'll happen. And—" he cut off, a muscle in his jaw working frantically before he covered his face with his hands, raw agony in his voice. "Oh, Jesus, Kevin!" He burst out of his chair, striding forward, his fists clenching and unclenching helplessly. "Goddammit, I should have known!"

Another stab of guilt for telling Tom about Kevin struck FP, and this time, he knew it was irrational. No matter who told Tom the news, it was always going to be painful, and it was just as well that FP had shouldered the responsibility instead of leaving it to the hospital-bound teenager who was already drowning in his own troubles.

"He didn't want you to know," FP told Tom as comfortingly as he could. His mind skipped back to the memory of Kevin coming to visit him at the trailer that day. "He didn't want to upset you. And I know how stupid that sounds," he rushed to say. "But what do you want, Tom? He's 's gonna do dumb things. And more importantly, he did it because he cares about you. I could tell, when he came and talked to me, that the only reason he opened up his mouth was because he was worried about you and Jughead. Anything he did or didn't do where Ashton is concerned is because he wanted to protect you." He let out a sigh himself. "Look, I know what it's like to have a kid who thinks he has to keep things from you for your own good. It's a suckerpunch to the gut to think he doesn't trust you. But you gotta realize then that he was just trying to do right by you."

Tom took several deep breaths, clearly forcing down his anger and despair and trying to regain his composure. When he turned back to FP, taking several long strides back to him, he was still clearly upset, but he'd managed to rein it in for the moment, clearly determined to have control of his emotions.

"You're right," he said evenly, in a voice of hard-won calm. "You're right. This isn't about me, it's about him." He looked at FP directly. "And speaking of doing the right thing, I've got to thank you for helping Kevin when he needed it. That was good of you. I don't know how to repay you."

The praise made FP feel distinctly awkward and uncomfortable; he didn't typically think of himself as a very good person, and to be complimented for having basic standards of being a decent human being somehow made him feel worse.

So he waved it off. "You don't worry about that now. Just take care of your kid," FP replied as casually as he could manage.

"No. I'll make it a priority." Tom looked at him, a newfound respect glimmering beneath the worry in his gaze, replacing the disdain that was normally there whenever he looked at FP. "Now that you've done right by my boy, I'm going to do right by you and the Serpents."

A doctor walked out of the emergency room then, her eyes swiveling directly over to them and fixing on Tom. Before she could open her mouth, Tom had bolted up and strode over to her.

"I'm Sheriff Keller, Kevin's father. What's the news?" Worry was evident in his voice.

"He's safe," the doctor said, repeating the same words that the nurse had used earlier. "But I think we need to speak privately about some of the injuries we found during the examination."

Tom followed her out of the room, turning and giving a final nod at FP before parting. FP nodded back, waiting before Tom left before slumping back into his chair, only then realizing how exhausted he was. And he still had to go over to the Andrews' house and then figure out what the damage was to the trailer park . . . dammit, he should've thought to ask Tom. 'Course, Tom had enough on his plate as it was at the moment. FP's thoughts flashed briefly to Kevin. He really did hope the kid would make it through okay and that the doctor hadn't found anything that was going to make his life even worse.

Wearily, FP hauled himself to his feet, his muscles aching from too much stress and too little sleep, but he still began trudging for the door.

He still had work to do, and he still had to make sure his own kid and the Serpent kids were all safe.

* * *

In movies and books Kevin had seen about people waking up in the hospital, they often didn't know where they were at first. They usually needed to ask someone about it, and sometimes they wondered if they were in heaven instead.

Kevin knew he was in a hospital the entire time he was slowly coming into awareness. No heaven had the slow and steady beep of a nearby heart monitor or the faint but sharp odor of antiseptic.

As he slowly managed force the dregs of sleep from his brain, not quite able to lift his eyelids just yet, he became vaguely aware of a conversation happening just a few paces away, probably just a step or two outside of his room.

" . . . still not awake?" It was a female voice, one he dimly recognized, but not one he could place.

"Not yet." Even half unconscious, Kevin knew that voice instantly: it was his father. He felt relieved to hear him, but he couldn't quite recall why.

"The doctors think it's relatively normal, given the trauma of the situation and how it went untreated," his father continued. He sounded very tired when he said it. "But they said he should make a full recovery, so I guess we're very lucky, all things considered."

There was something else in his voice that Kevin didn't like, some type of anger, some type of fear, and he wanted to go and comfort his dad, to hug him and hold him tightly. But he couldn't manage to summon the energy to force himself to be entirely awake just yet.

"Oh, Tom." The woman sounded genuinely sympathetic. "If there's anything I can do—"

"You've done enough," Tom replied, warmth clear in his voice despite his weariness. "Thank you, Sierra. For the clothes and the food and for everything else you've done. I can't tell you how grateful I am."

"No need to be grateful," the woman replied firmly. "I'm happy to do all I can."

There was the ping of a phone reminder alert, and the woman sighed.

"I have to run," she said reluctantly. "But let me know as soon as Kevin wakes up, okay?"

"Okay," Tom agreed softly. "I will. And thank you for everything."

There was a faint sound of what might have been a quick peck on the lips, and then the steadily fading click-clack of departing high heels.

Kevin almost drifted off again then but caught himself in time, beginning to fight for full consciousness. It was a narrowly won struggle, because he desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but at long last, he finally pried his eyes open.

He found himself lying in an upright-positioned bed in a small, softly lit hospital room that had only maybe a quarter of the overhead lights turned on. The shades were halfway drawn on the windows and sunlight glowed at the edges of the curtains, spilling forth to splinter in gleaming patches across the tile floor and onto the sheets that were drawn up to his chest.

As he glanced around, he noticed an IV in his arm and registered the heart monitor attached to his chest, poking out from beneath his hospital gown. And next to his bed was his father, sitting in a chair, bent over with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

"D—" Kevin tried to speak, but his voice grated in his dry throat, and it took him several attempts before he could wheeze out the rest of the word. "D-D-Dad?"

Immediately, Tom sat up straight, his eyes snapping to Kevin's face and an expression of enormous relief filling his features.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed, abandoning his chair to sit down beside Kevin on the bed, taking care to avoid the various lines hooked up to him. But he didn't hesitate to gather Kevin into his arms and hold him close, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

"I was worried about you," Kevin heard him just barely whisper. "My God, Kev, I was so worried about you."

"It's okay, Dad," Kevin said, barely aware of what he was saying, just happy to be in his father's embrace. The warm, solid presence of his father made him feel safe and loved. For several moments, he remained there, content to just be hugged by his father. It felt like a soothing remedy to a wound he hadn't known he had.

Eventually, his father pulled back slightly, but still remained close, gently stroking Kevin's cheek with his thumb. "I'm just so glad you're safe." Pain and guilt filled his eyes. "I know all about Wes. And I'm so, so sorry I wasn't there for you when it was happening. I should've known. I should have realized—"

Wes. In the blink of an eye, all that had happened rushed back to Kevin, from telling FP the truth, to Wes attacking him and Moose at the house, to Wes lying motionless at the bottom of the gulley, obviously dead.

And Moose. Moose. What had happened to Moose?

"Is Moose okay?" Kevin asked frantically, interrupting his father. His pulse started racing as the image of Moose reeling back from Wes's vicious blow, falling to the ground, and then remaining there flashed through his mind. The heart monitor registered his panic, increasing its beeps in tandem.

"He's fine," Tom said immediately, going to rub Kevin's back soothingly. "Sweetheart, he's okay. You're both okay. It's gonna be okay."

Some of the panic left Kevin, but not all of it, and he found himself gazing at his father in trepidation. As relieved as he was to hear that Moose hadn't been seriously hurt and nor had he, he realized that he finally had to confront the worst part of this entire debacle with Wes. It was the part he'd dreaded the most, even moreso than the rape itself.

He had to talk about what had happened with his father.

Kevin swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he forced himself to meet his father's gaze. "You know about me and Wes, then, don't you?"

His father nodded once, looking older than Kevin had ever remembered seeing him. "I do."

Kevin's stomach dropped and he looked away, shame burning through him, but Tom's arm around him only tightened, and he very gently lifted Kevin's chin with one hand so he could look him in the eye.

"I want you to know that you have nothing to feel guilty for," Tom said fiercely. "Nothing. What he did to you, Kevin, it was wrong, plain and simple. You have no responsibility for any of it."

"I should have told you," Kevin confessed, guilt churning in his stomach despite what his father had just said. "Instead of running away to Montana and then trying to avoid Wes, I should have gone to you right away. I was just—" he broke off, feeling tears swell in his eyes, and he frantically tried to work down the lump that was rising in his throat.

"No, Kev, no, it's all right." Tom looked like he wanted to say something else, but then seemed to think twice about it. Still rubbing Kevin's back a while longer, he closed his mouth and looked like he was considering his words for a moment, but then he went on. "You were doing the best you could in the situation that you were dealt," he told Kevin, his voice tender but firm. "I know why you didn't tell me. FP explained most of what was going on, and the doctors were able to . . . confirm what Wes did to you."

Kevin cringed as it dawned on him that even more people knew of the violation he'd suffered at Wes's hands, but his father, ever protective, refused to let him despair at the prospect even for a moment.

"You needed help, Kev," he said, his tone refusing to hear any argument. "And there's nothing wrong with that, you hear? Nothing. It was important to have a doctor examine you after Wes attacked you. After he attacked you twice." His voice grew a little bit strained, and, looking up at him, Kevin thought he caught extra moisture glinting in his green eyes, the ones so much like his own. "You have nothing to feel ashamed of. And with the damage still clear from the first time, well—"

This time it was Tom who had to turn away, a muscle in his jaw working rapidly as he tried to compose himself. Several moments passed until he silently turned back again and reached to cup Kevin's face again.

"I'm so sorry that I let this happen to you," his father whispered, agony clear on his face and self-reproach in his every word. "One of my own men, one of my most trusted. One I was trying to have over for dinner, for Christ's sake!" He let out a huff that was somewhere between a scoff and a sob. "And I never suspected once that he was hurting you. And you—you had to live with my failure. My one kid, the only one I have, and that's what I let happen to you." Obviously overcome with emotion, he pressed a hand into his eyes, turning away slightly as his shoulders began trembling.

Kevin's heart ached for his father, and he felt horrible for being part of the situation that was causing him so much grief. He'd always wanted to spare his father this pain, wanted to be his escape from the constant stress of his work, not the cause of it.

"It's not your fault," he insisted, surprised at how steady his voice came out. He grabbed his father's shoulder, pulling him to face him again. "I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect you, Dad. You couldn't have known. I made my own choices, and it was about keeping people safe—you, Jughead, and my other friends. I'd do it again if it meant keeping Wes away from the people that I love."

Kevin squeezed his father's shoulder. "I love you," he said, his voice coming out hoarse again. "I love you, Dad. I'd do anything to protect you. I did this to protect you."

In an instant, Tom pulled away from, a variety of emotions rapidly flitting across his features. Kevin only caught the first and final one: genuine disbelief and then frustration mixed with sadness.

"It's not your responsibility to protect me!" Tom informed him heatedly, staring straight at him, seeming very startled. "Jesus, Kevin, I'm supposed to be the one protecting you! Don't you think I'm capable of doing that?"

Unable to stop himself from flinching at his father's raised voice, Kevin looked down at the sheets over his hospital bed, plucking nervously at the fabric as anxiety swelled within him, rising like floodwaters. This conversation was precisely what he hadn't wanted, why he hadn't told his father the truth: he hadn't wanted their relationship to change, for Wes to marr the bond between them.

And yet, he clearly had.

To his credit, Tom looked immediately regretful as soon as the words left his mouth, and he rushed to reassure Kevin. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to snap at you. Because this isn't your fault. This shouldn't have been your fight. And you . . ." he reached out and gripped Kevin's hand, looking at him desperately. "You're allowed to be hurt, you know that? I know you didn't tell me because you wanted to protect me, but if you also had other reasons, if you were scared, or if you were afraid of how I'd react, that would be okay, too. I'm not going to hold that against you. You can feel upset by what happened."

The tears from earlier had never quite subsided in Kevin's eyes, and now they pressed at Kevin's lids again, threatened to spill forth as the swelling in his throat grew, rendering him unable to speak.

"You can be hurt, Kev," his father whispered to him, giving his hand a squeeze. "You're not indestructible, and you don't have to pretend to be. Just . . ." his voice cracked a little bit. "Please don't think you have to hide from me again."

"I . . ." Kevin started his sentence but found himself unable to finish it as the room around him blurred and then he could feel one of the tears slip down his face. He tried to brush it aside, but more were already flowing down his face, and when he tried to take a deep breath to calm himself, a shuddering gasp escaped his throat.

Without wasting a moment, Tom had swept him into his arms again and was holding him tightly once more.

"You were so strong, Kevin," he told him lowly, rubbing his back again. "You were so brave. But you don't have to be, not anymore. I'm here. I'll protect you now."

A deep ache erupted within Kevin at the words, so fierce and so raw that he didn't know how he could have ever ignored it before, but he knew that he could ignore it no longer.

Burying his face into Tom's neck, he inhaled his scent as best he could, letting the familiar smell of his aftershave and the worn leather of his sheriff's jacket wash over him. He tried to find comfort in them, in the warm memories they raised, in the feeling of home that settled within him the moment the scents reached his consciousness.

But the comfort from the past wasn't quite enough of a balm to mend the wounds of the present.

"We'll get through this," Tom said, his voice soft but determined. "We'll get through this together, I promise. I'm here for you, Kevin. I'm always here."

Kevin believed him. He had always believed in his father. He'd always known that Tom would protect him from Wes, always known that he would be his staunchest supporter. So he'd tried his best to protect Tom. Tried to protect his dad.

Look at how that had worked out.

A sob started to rise in his throat, and Kevin battled to push down, to push it away. As he did his best, gripping at his father's back in concentration, he became aware of just how violently he was trembling.

"We're going to get through this," his father murmured to him. "We're going to be all right. You're going to be okay."

No longer able to hold back, a strangled sob burst through from Kevin's throat, and he pressed harder against Tom's neck. And then, clinging to the shoulders of the father that he knew loved

him and had known that he always would, Kevin finally allowed himself to cry.

* * *

After a little while alone with his father, a nurse knocked gently on the door and asked if it was all right to take his vitals. Knowing she was asking out of politeness and that she'd need to do her job regardless, Kevin agreed. When she finished, she seemed pleased with the results, removing his IV drip and heart monitor before leaving. And not long after she'd departed, a doctor arrived, a tall, slender woman who wore her long dark hair in a loose side braid. She introduced herself as Dr. Navarro and explained she wanted to give Kevin a cursory examination.

"Just as a precaution," she said, her voice confident and reassuring. "You were examined upon arrival, of course, but we wanted to confirm your symptoms just to be positive there aren't any complications."

For privacy, she asked Tom to leave the room, and he did, giving Kevin's shoulder a comforting squeeze before he departed.

"I'm just going to wait down the hall," he promised. "I'll be right there if you need me."

Kevin did his best to give his dad a smile, very consciousness that his eyes were still puffy and that the doctor probably could realize that he'd been crying earlier. "Got it, Dad. Thanks."

"We should only be about twenty minutes," Dr. Navarro informed him, turning up her palm to glance at her watch, which she wore on the back of her wrist rather than the front.

Kevin's stomach twisted in dread at having to endure being poked and prodded and interrogated for the next third of an hour, but was cheered slightly when Dr. Narravo gave him a friendly smile as his father left, closing the door behind him.

"You can relax," she told him, her brown eyes compassionate and good-humored. "This exam is only going to be short and isn't going to be at all invasive, okay?"

"Okay," Kevin replied, some of the tension leaving his shoulders, and he did his best to lean back against the pillows, trying to put himself at ease.

Dr. Navarro gave him an understanding smile but didn't comment, instead moving forward with her task.

"We had some concerns about head injuries when you were brought in yesterday, and while our tests didn't show any problems, I'd like to make sure. Let's start with just a few routine questions. Can you tell me the month?"

"September," Kevin replied promptly, eager to prove himself and end the examination as soon as he could.

Dr. Navarro gave an approving nod and made a mark on her clipboard. "And can you tell me what you ate for breakfast this past Wednesday?"

Wednesday. That had been the day he'd gone to visit FP, Kevin realized with a guilty jolt, glancing quickly at the doctor. There was no way she could know about what they'd done to Wes, he reminded himself. It wasn't like FP or any of the Serpents would be lining up to tell her.

"I didn't eat breakfast on Wednesday," he answered as smoothly as he could. "I, um . . ." his throat felt like it wanted to close as he remembered the oppressive fear that had hung over him then after he's been forced into sex with Wes the previous night. "I-I wasn't feeling well."

Dr. Navarro made a sympathetic noise and wrote that down as well.

The questions continued for the next few moments, adding up to be about ten in all, consisting of basic information about himself, testing both his long and short-term memory. She seemed satisfied with the results, concluding that part of the exam by shining a penlight into his eyes and questioning him if he'd felt dizzy or disoriented since waking up.

"Completely concussion-free," she declared with a smile. "If it's all right with you, Kevin, next I'll be checking your ribs and and your ankle."

"Oh, sure," Kevin said, relieved that all seemed to be doing well so far. A question occurred to him, one he hadn't thought of before, and he now felt foolish for not asking it sooner. "What's actually wrong with me?"

"Bruised ribs and a sprained ankle," Dr. Navarro told him as she donned her stethoscope.

Kevin blinked, amazed that the damage wasn't worse as he remembered his frantic, intense struggle with Wes. "That's it?"

"And more than your fair share of bumps and bruises," Dr. Navarro admitted. "Can you sit up for me? I want to check on your ribs."

Kevin straightened from where he'd been leaning against the pillows, wincing as his shoulders twinged with soreness. Still, in spite of the ache, he held himself upright as Dr. Navarro gently tested his ribs, pressing one hand just below his pecs and having him inhale and exhale deeply as she listened with her stethoscope. While Kevin even normally would have been self-conscious at being touched so closely by a stranger, doctor or not, the knowledge that she was aware of what Wes had done to him brought Kevin heavy discomfort. Every inhale and exhale she instructed him to make was stuttering and shaky, almost whistling out of his lungs.

Dr. Navarro noticed his unease and gave him an encouraging smile.

"I know this is bothering you, and I'm sorry," she told him sincerely. "We're almost done, I promise."

Kevin nodded, trying to remain stoic and cooperate, not wanting to cause her any difficulty when she was merely trying to help him. Still, it was burden off his shoulders when she finished checking on his ribs and moved away, putting some distance between them as she tested his ankle for swelling and tenderness.

She seemed content with her findings of the entire exam at the end, taking the chair that Tom had vacated, scribbling a few final notes on her clipboard.

"All in all, you're on the road to recovery," she observed, glancing up at him between jotting down her findings. "Your ribs should mend first. As long as you take it easy for the next few weeks, wear loose shirts, and use ice packs to ease the ache, I see no reason why you shouldn't make a full recovery. I'll make sure we give you a list of breathing exercises to complete to help with pain relief. But if you notice any shortness of breath at unexpected times, you need to come right back here, you understand?"

"Sure, of course," Kevin replied, eager to conclude the meeting and stop feeling so on edge. He found himself drumming his fingers on his thigh in nervousness, and when he tried to stop to force himself to calm down, only managed to cope for ten seconds before giving in again to the persistent urge.

"The sprain on your ankle is slightly more severe," Dr. Navarro continued. "Your father mentioned that you run competitively for school, but I'm afraid you're not going to be able to continue with the season. We don't want you running on it for at least two weeks, and you're likely going to require a lightweight ankle brace for regular activity for at least a month. The injury isn't as bad as it could be, and you're young and strong, so there's no reason it shouldn't heal fully, but we don't want the interference of extra strain. Beyond your normal routine, you shouldn't be doing anything more strenuous than short walks—a mile on level ground at the very most, at least until we've ensured there are no complications."

Part of Kevin's eagerness drained away as it registered that his long-held fantasy of his entire life going back to normal now that Wes was gone wasn't smoothly transitioning into reality like he'd desperately hoped that it would. He'd been hoping to just easily slip back into his everyday activities, have a mundane life in a mundane world again. But it looked like that was a far-flung hope and always had been.

Dr. Navarro consulted her clipboard. "Barring any unforeseen issues, we have an appointment scheduled for you in a week's time to check that everything is going as expected. "However . . ." She set aside her clipboard and fixed Kevin with a serious gaze, her face still sympathetic but somber. "I also wanted to speak to you about your other injuries. The ones that you sustained earlier this week. Are you experiencing any pain with them at this point?"

Kevin's face flamed and his dropped his gaze to stare at his sheets again. So there it was. She was asking about Wes. He'd known it would have to happen at some point, but that still didn't stop dread and vague nausea from roiling inside his stomach, and he suddenly wanted to bolt from the room.

His mouth suddenly parched, he found himself fumbling for a response. "I'm not. I haven't since a day or two after I first got them. But is everything there . . . okay?" he asked, cringing at even needing to ask and at how juvenile the question sounded.

"Physically, you're fine," Dr. Navarro said reassuringly. "The damage has already begun healing. But the injury itself was very concerning, and there was obviously a significant amount of force used during the . . . act."

While Kevin knew Dr. Navarro was trying to be tactful, he wanted to sink through the floor at her choice of description for Wes raping him. It such a small, neat word that served as delicate euphemism to describe the worst moments of his life, his biggest humiliation and the absolute lowest point he'd ever been reduced to.

There was a pause as Dr. Navarro shifted in her seat, the chair creaking slightly, and she cleared her throat. As she did, Kevin risked a split-second glance at her; noting the unhappiness on her face. Strangely, he couldn't help but feel comforted that he wasn't the only one ill at ease, that at least they both found this conversation difficult.

"And combined with the other older injuries you had, I'm sure you can understand my concern that the encounter may not have been entirely consensual," Dr. Navarro continued. "Kevin, I don't mean to invade your privacy, but as a physician, I have to ask: are these injuries from a willing sexual encounter, or an unwilling one?"

"Unwilling." Kevin's voice cracked; the word felt like it had been scraped out of his dry throat.

Forcing himself to look directly at her, he found that though she looked sympathetic, she didn't seem surprised.

"Thank you for telling me that," Dr. Navarro said kindly. "Can you tell me who it was? Did you know him?"

Kevin tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs. His heart was pounding, and he felt lightheaded. This would be the first time he ever admitted the truth about Wes to a total stranger, to someone who was asking and who he was answering solely because they were an authority figure and he needed to report what had happened.

"I did know him," he replied eventually. The syllables sounded strange and distorted as he spoke them, and they seemed to come too slow. "It was Wes Ashton. No one helped him. It was just him, and he . . . hurt me."

He looked at Dr. Navarro for her reaction, to see if she was shocked or skeptical, if she was going to condemn him for not fighting back against only one assailant. But she only gave him an encouraging nod, so he continued.

"He was a deputy on my father's police force," Kevin went on. The words still didn't sound right to his ears, somehow both too clipped and overly elongated, and his sudden heavy breathing certainly didn't help them sound normal. "He was the reason Moose and I were admitted here yesterday. He attacked us at my house." A stab of bitterness pierced through him again as he spoke the words, at Wes for ruining the night he'd been looking for forward to, the night that had been the bright spot in his then-miserable life.

But things could be better now, Kevin reminded himself determinedly. His father still loved him and would stand by him. Dr. Navarro seemed to believe him when he'd told her what had happened. Maybe others would, too.

Things could be better now, Kevin repeated mentally, as he raised his eyes to meet Dr. Navarro's gaze. Things would be better now.

Her face was composed and just slightly concerned, and her eyes held nothing but compassion for him. "Thank you," she told him again. "I really appreciate you trusting me with this." She stood, gathering her clipboard, but before she moved away from his bed, she gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "You did the right thing by telling me," she said with a soft smile.

Kevin just nodded numbly, barely able to believe that he had managed to tell someone, but all the same, he was grateful for her calm presence throughout their discussion. She'd been very gentle and hadn't pushed him or tried to make him second-guess himself, and he appreciated that. He didn't think he could have coped if she had been anything else.

"Given that you seem to be recuperating very well, I think you can be released before dinnertime today," Dr. Navarro informed him. "There are a few more tests we have to do, and there's another doctor who'll be stopping in to speak with you, but overall, you're in prime condition." The good humor in her eyes was more apparent than ever as she added, "And I'll be letting your father know when I step out to speak with him, but since you're doing so well, I see no reason why you can't start receiving visitors right away."

Kevin hadn't even considered the prospect of anyone stopping by to see him in the hospital, and now found himself thoroughly taken aback by the idea. "Visitors?"

"As long as you feel up to it," Dr. Navarro advised. "You're not in solitary confinement, Kevin, and you don't have to act as if you are." She gave him a brief wave and walked toward the door. "I have to go speak with your father now, and then I'll be sending him in, but I'll be checking on you again before you're released."

His mind swirling with conflicting thoughts, Kevin barely snapped back into awareness to say goodbye to her. "Yeah, sure. I'll, uh, see you," he managed lamely as she exited, before being swept up again by the debate warring inside his mind.

He wanted to see Moose. That was the very first person he'd thought of when Dr. Navarro had mentioned visitors. He desperately, achingly wanted to see him. Talk to him about Wes, explain just enough without getting into any of the gory details. Apologize to him, both for their date bring ruined and for getting him involved in the situation and being injured as a result. And, of course, thank him for stepping in and trying to defend him from Wes even though he didn't have to. Moose had been so confident in that moment, so intent on helping him, a true beacon of hope in Kevin's darkest hour. And Kevin dearly wanted to see him, to feel that hope again, that sense that things were going to turn out all right after all.

But the scene of Moose collapsing on the ground while Wes towered over him replayed in Kevin's mind, and he couldn't hold back a despairing sigh. He wanted Moose to visit him, sure, but a visit meant he would have to explain the reason for Wes's attack on them in the first place. And while Kevin might have been able to gather the courage to tell Dr. Navarro, he wasn't sure that he would be able to summon the nerve to tell the guy he'd been crushing on for over a year now.

Then again, maybe he was a fool to think Moose would want anything to do with him at all now. From his weird mini-breakdown in Moose's car earlier that week to having some lunatic interrupt their date before it even began, Kevin had been nothing but trouble for Moose during almost every time they'd ever hung out. And given that said lunatic had even jumped Moose twice in one afternoon, Kevin wouldn't blame Moose if he decided to avoid Kevin for the rest of his life.

He wouldn't call Moose, Kevin decided, pushing aside the ache in his heart at not being able to see him and the guilt at not even apologizing for the entire debacle. Not bothering to ask Moose in the first place would spare them both from the awkwardness of Moose needing to decline the invitation. Kevin had already put him through enough as it was.

Who else could he call? Who else did he trust? Six months ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to ask Betty to come and see him, but they'd grown apart so much during the summer and were only just rebuilding their friendship. Dumping all of the sordid details on her at once might bring it to collapse permanently under the strain.

And he had other friends at school—Reggie, Archie, Jughead, Ginger, Midge, Ethel, Josie, and now Veronica—but he wasn't sure he felt comfortable trying to come up with an excuse for any of them about why he was in the hospital in the first place. He didn't think he could handle any scrutiny or questions, and he certainly wasn't going to tell them the truth.

Oddly, as he was considering potential visitors, Kevin found the urge to call FP continually nagging at him, even as he dismissed the idea entirely. The man had already done more than enough for him without being pestered by Kevin any longer—he'd come to rescue him from Wes, Kevin recalled suddenly. He'd arrived when Wes was already dead, but that didn't change what he'd done to try to protect Kevin. And in all likelihood, he'd probably been the one to bring him and Moose to the hospital. He'd already put himself at risk multiple times for him. It wouldn't be fair of Kevin to expect the man to put his life on hold to come running to him again. He'd thank him later, but he'd leave him in peace for now.

With FP not an option, Kevin was surprised to find the prospect of calling the younger Serpents that he knew leaping into his mind, but only for a second. They were still upset with him for not being able to speak with Mr. Weatherbee, he recalled with a heavy heart, and rightfully so. He'd made promises to them and then spectacularly failed to keep them. All because of Wes, he thought with yet another acrid spike of bitterness.

But then it dawned on him.

Wes was dead. He'd prevented Kevin from speaking to Mr. Weatherbee earlier, but there was no reason why Kevin couldn't keep his promise to speak with Mr. Weatherbee now.

His father walked back into the room then, his conversation with Dr. Navarro concluded, and Kevin didn't waste another moment

"Hey, Dad, you wouldn't happen to have Mr. Weatherbee's number, would you?" Kevin asked right away, the words tumbling out of his mouth in his eagerness to put the task to rest.

Surprise was apparent on Tom's face at the question, and he cast Kevin a quizzical glance as he responded. "Waldo? Yeah, I've got his cell for emergencies at the school. Why?"

"Can I have your phone?" Kevin reached out a hand, fresh resolve and a new energy flowing through him. "I have to speak to him. It's about a . . . school administrative matter."

Tom didn't seem convinced, but handed over his phone regardless, then moved to sit on the bed beside Kevin again, close to him but not crowding him. Kevin leaned up against him again, warmth pooling in his stomach as his father gently stroked at his hair. With as reluctant as he'd been to tell his father the truth, it was a relief to have the reassurance that Tom was still determined to be there for him.

Bringing up Mr. Weatherbee's contact info on the phone, Kevin punched the call button and listened to it ring, smiling fully for the first time that day when he got an answer almost immediately.

"Hello, Mr. Weatherbee. It's Kevin Keller. I'm calling you from Riverdale General. I wanted to speak to you. It's about the Southside High merge . . ."

With Wes out of the way, Kevin was going to make things right for the Southside students. No matter how many staff or school board members he had to call from his hospital bed.

* * *

 **Notes:**

Sorry for the long delay between updates! I tried to give a more extended chapter to make up for it.

Next chapter will have the reactions of Archie, Betty, Veronica, and Jughead to the situation with the Serpents keeping them at the Andrews house on the night of the dance as well as their reactions to Kevin being attacked. We'll also get to see Kevin with FP and the Serpent teens. And Kevin might just be making a phone call to a particular crush of his . . . or his crush might stop by and surprise him. Oh, and we'll also get to see what happen to the Jones trailer in the trailer park fire.

Next chapter will be the finale, so be sure to let me know if there's something you really want to see/know before it all ends!

Finally, sorry if Tom comes across as a bit weird in this chapter. I was tying my best write him as a single parent who's just experienced a severe shock and is extremely devastated to discover his child was abused by someone he trusted. And he dearly wants to be there for Kevin, but he also feels very guilty, so he's struggling with a few things. But regardless, he loves Kevin and is going to be there for him.

Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate you sticking with the story, and I always love hearing from readers!


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